The Warrior
by Faerlyte
Summary: Tifa defeats Sephiroth in the Nibelheim reactor. Five years later they meet again within Shin-Ra as she searches for a lost friend. The future of humanity hangs on the outcome of impending war, and it will be in their hands to win or lose it. AU
1. Chapter 1

_**The Warrior**_

_by Faerlyte_

**Disclaimer: **I make no claims on the characters, settings or plot as pertaining to Final Fantasy VII and the Compilation. This is purely for my own pleasure, and hopefully that of the readers. And as I believe one of these should do, this shall be the only disclaimer that appears and will apply to the entire story.

_Quick note: _This is primarily an AU, but with many similarities and parallels to both Final Fantasy VII and Crisis Core, and quite possibly Dirge of Cerberus later on too. This is also an eventual Tifa/Sephiroth. You'll notice rather quickly where I have deviated from canon - this is just my version of the events had I been the one writing the script. The only time first person POV will appear is in the prologue. The rest will be 3rd person POV.

With that said...happy reading!

* * *

**Prologue**

Listen to the sound of fire crackling on wood and snapping beams, the euphoric screams of the dying. Can they smell it? The coppery tinge of blood mingling with smoke? Fear radiates from them as they scurry from the carnage.

They will know the monster they have created. Let them be punished for what they have done. Let them bleed for me!

But it hurts to think. Mother does not approve. I must do better to prove myself worthy, for only she is worthy of me.

It is so simple now, so easy. The last frail string of empathy clinging to this world has broken. She is my master, my queen, the Mother of all things. She has called upon me to cleanse the world of sin!

As I am the chosen, I must not fail.

Whoever bars my path shall die. They have squandered the planet and Mother. She says they must be destroyed, and of course she is right.

I no longer know these faces, though a whisper of them remains somewhere buried deep within the realms of madness. Mother shrieks agony into my mind when I try to remember why they are familiar. I must remain strong. I cannot surrender myself to those memories – they are my sins against Her.

She pushes hard for she wants to be found. The reactor, she beckons. Yes, I know the reactor. I've been there before. I don't remember how I know this as I head there without conscious thought. Mother will show me the way if I lose it.

A fool chases at my heels, hoping to stop me. I do not hear him speak for her voice booms inside my skull. Death! Death to the infidel!

_Of course, Mother. Your wish is my command_.

The man is weaponless and easy to dispose of, but Mother is so impatient. She courses through my veins, her fingers clawing inside me, dragging me forward. I am eager to follow and yet, my sword is in the ground and she is unwavering in her grasp.

_I'm coming, Mother. _Some part of me wavers at the soul it's leaving behind in the blade stuck in the ground. It is my every breath, every life beat, but inside me she burns and I cannot refuse.

_My sword…_

She says I can come back for it, though I am naked without it now. My blood burns for the touch of leather in my palm, but I must go on.

No one else stands between me and my destiny. I mount the steps, my vision blurry with hunger as I feel her presence close to mine. Her power is magnificent, all encompassing – exhilarating. I yearn to feel it, to possess it as my own. Together we will make the world pay.

_I'm here, Mother._

I throw aside the barrier that hides her from me and smile. She is here. We meet at last.

Mother laughs, though it is more akin to a cackle. I tremble in the wake of her strength, the edge of her cruelty sharp and unforgiving. But I am her chosen and she will not punish me.

_Come, Mother. Let us go to the promise land! _

She stops suddenly. Something is wrong and I hesitate. Her scream resounds furiously in my ears and I wince, stepping back. Have I done something to displease her?

Someone is behind me, but I am too late. Pain lances from my chest and my strength begins to fail. An eerie trickle is in my lungs as I glance down oddly at the familiar blade protruding from my body.

The blade twists with brutal force and I gasp in agony, eyes wide, choking. My skin shudders from the chill of death with each rattling breath I take. The sword is driven through to the hilt, the point piercing Mother's abdomen.

Her cry reverberates through my very bones and I scream. My body convulses. The dread of my own mortality binds me with fear. I sink to my knees, the shadow of defeat clamping down and rising fast around me.

Impossible! Surely, it cannot be?!

An unyielding force plants against my back, pushing me forward as the masamune is jerked free. My arms are barely strong enough to catch my body. I have gone cold as I twist around at my assailant. At first I cannot see through the blinding stars that pervade my vision.

_I'm dying, Mother! Why am I dying?_

But Mother nurses her wound in silence. She refuses me and I am alone. The shadowy figure before me is revealed as Mother's veil no longer clouds my sight.

I blink and stare, bemused.

It is just a girl – a girl whose eyes burn with an intensity beyond anything I've ever seen. They are the color of garnets, bottomless and full of rage. Her long dark hair flows around the powerful aura she exudes, one hand clenched furiously around the hilt of my sword and the other in a fist.

_Who is this warrior who bests me in battle? _

"I hate you." The girl whispers, her flushed cheeks glistening with shed tears, but there is no shred of mercy or compassion in her voice. Her grief is twisted into unforgiving anger.

The words surround me, a tornado of rippling power that takes hold with steel claws. It burns my skin, an invisible tattoo that binds me to a fate I do not know. But I _do_ know this girl, though she appears a woman now. I know her, but cannot remember why or how.

What is this strength that she possesses to be greater than Mother's? I plead, but she does not answer me.

"Mother?"

The girl's head snaps around and her eyes narrow, burning a trail towards the being that is helpless behind me. I see what she will do and my throat tightens, but I am powerless against what she intends.

"She's not your mother." She snarls, her face twisting violently. "That's a monster."

The girl swings the masamune around, and the movement is eerily beautiful, inexperienced though she is. As she lunges past me, her face is set in stone as lovely as death has ever been. The stroke falls, shattering the magic barrier completely, and embeds itself in Mother's skull. Jenova's defeat is complete and deafening, a shriek that flays skin from bone.

Agony erases my mind – would erase my entire existence. It feels like eternities and ends in seconds.

And then I wake up.

I feel it almost instantly; something is wrong. I know not how I've come to be here or why, though there is a tingling in the back of my skull that suggests otherwise. It is coming to me as I push myself up on numb hands, kneeling in the final throes before the end.

I taste copper bitterness in my mouth – a pierced lung. My memory returns quickly, so as not to miss me before I am dead, and suddenly death is not so horrible a prospect. It is my just due for becoming what I always feared dwelt within me.

My sin, my tragedy, my destiny; brought down by the girl kneeling across from me.

Her eyes are empty and exhausted as I look back. She does not flinch nor turn her head away from me. There is resignation in her bent form, a suggestion of giving up when things have gone too badly to be repaired.

Some part of me wishes fervently that she stand up again and wield her power with the same ferocity that was my end. The world needs that grace, that strength of will to overcome what I could not. She is the real hero – she is the warrior who fights for the right reasons while I have fought only for power without reason.

I owe to her what little might be left of the soul I once had, the soul that resides in the sword, the soul that gives her a strength that I could never have.

"You have…done well." It is all I can manage through the blood that bubbles up my throat as I fall back.

The darkness is comforting. It is the end of my pain – my life of nothing and no one.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

Steel toed leather boots thudded dully against the glistening tile floor of Shin-Ra HQ's front entrance. Their stride was purposeful, firm. No one questioned the familiar uniformed blue of SOLDIER, nor the standard 3rd class helmet and face guard. So many of them came and went throughout the day – the same one might pass several times and no one would know.

Just as they wouldn't know that the face behind the mask didn't belong, that she was an impostor among men. There were no women admitted into SOLDIER. No one would know it to look at her, for the feminine angles of her body and her brown tresses of hair remained hidden.

Tifa hated the helmets they wore. It was stuffy and hot and made her scalp itch and sweat. Her hands ached to throw the horrid thing aside, but it was protocol for her to wear it and it was the only thing between her and certain discovery.

Her eyes stared hard ahead as she mounted the sweeping staircase to the second level elevators. The foyer was empty as she passed, not that anyone would have paid her any mind. They all looked the same behind closed visors, like an army of robots – no faces, no individuality – ghosts that passed.

She hated that too. She hated everything connected to the wretched company that she had sold her soul to, but it had been necessary. That's what she told herself.

It was a chance in a million – finding a needle in a haystack – a choice that at any given moment in time, the odds of her making it were a mere 1%. Somehow, she had made it. Now, that 1% loomed so much larger as she was faced with the unlikely consequences of her success.

There really wasn't a courageous bone in her body. She needed someone to lead her, which, in a way, is perhaps why she had succeeded this far. The Military was made for those that needed to be lead.

For her the hardest part was over, or so it felt. She had beaten the physical exam, survived the mako treatment, and made SOLDIER _almost _without anyone being the wiser of her gender. Three people knew, two were friends, and the third would sooner nail himself to a tree than divulge the truth.

Tifa was forced to concede that blackmail did have its uses.

All that shrank to nothing with the knowledge that this was the most ridiculous, most stupid thing she had ever done and would probably ever do. That was if she managed to survive. Desperation had a funny way of transforming a person though.

Some crazy part of her had demanded the decision – a crazy little thing called loyalty with a smattering of guilt on the side. She hadn't even thought twice about it at the time. When you've lost everything, the world takes on a whole new light, or her case…dark.

She sighed within the stifling confines of the helm as the elevator doors slid open. It was empty and she stepped inside without hesitation, pressing the floor button as she shifted around to face the front. Really, there was no point in turning back after coming this far, no matter how hard prudence demanded it.

The elevator eased into motion from its stand still, ascending the floors smoothly and silent. She examined the panel with bored interest. It never ceased to amaze her how many floors the building contained. It was easy to become disoriented. She had never been afraid of heights, but 75 floors off the ground in a man made building and an elevator with glass paneling wasn't the most comfortable she'd been.

It was fortunate then that her stop was a respectable 48 floors up to meet with her recently appointed superior officer. She had been in Junon for the graduation ceremony and had only just transferred back to Head Quarters. Her time spent here had been limited before as she had merely been a green blooded recruit then, untested and unfit.

Now she was certified with a newly tailored blue uniform that marked Shin-Ra SOLDIERS everywhere. The ensemble both encumbered and embarrassed her. She felt foolish. She was not a soldier – a warrior maybe, but not a soldier.

Staying poised and blank-faced while someone belts orders two inches from your nose was not something she excelled at. Fighting wars without cause or reason, which Shin-Ra _did _excel at, wasn't either.

But she was not here to find direction or prove something. Tifa was here on a mission – a mission that could very well cost her life, for what little that was worth. That goal allowed her to think past the constant irritants, to retain her self-being while those around her were stripped bare and remade, and to keep plodding forward when she wanted to give up.

The elevator slowed to a halt and she stepped out, barely noticing the SOLDIER waiting in the hall as she passed. He was a good ten inches taller than she, which made her feel all the more isolated. Her height would be a problem, among a few other more obvious aspects of her physiology, but they were all circumstances she had dealt with before in the process of getting here.

Something she had learned early on in this endeavor – people saw what they expected to see. There were any number of things about her that might stand out to the observant eye, but no one would fathom a woman, so they invented something else. Besides which, Shin-Ra was so intent on erasing individuality that no one ever observed too closely for lack of interest.

The floor she stepped out on was a great deal more populated than the lobby had been and it gleamed to artificial perfection as auto-bots hummed to and fro, polishing, polishing. There were many new recruits milling about in quiet conversation. Some of them she knew from her own squadron, but she neither could remember their names nor cared to refresh that memory. Her position was delicate in so many ways and circumstances tended to subject her to the wrath and ridicule of those surrounding her.

She recognized that behavior well from the children she had grown up with back home. They were bullies. And bullies were cowards.

She was a coward too not to stop them back then, but that was another time, perhaps another existence altogether.

There were veterans standing by in the hall, appraising the newest competition as it arrived. She ignored them and kept walking. It would do no good to show how imprisoned and afraid she felt underneath the scratchy fabric of her uniform and the sweltering heat of her helmet.

No one saw her sweaty palms or the nervous flicker of her eyes as she passed. Few but those who had trained with her would even recognize her. Her muscles twitched to run to the door, but she knew that it would be a foolish thing to do, so she didn't.

The door she sought was just ahead now. She was two steps from reaching the control panel when it slid open of its own accord and a tall figure stepped out; tall, and hauntingly familiar. Her feet faltered with a visible flinch and for the first time that day she was thankful for the helm that hid her stunned expression. Of course it would be him that she met face to face.

As her mind scrambled for coherency, memory transported her back in time.

Tifa could smell the fires and hear the splintering beams of collapsing houses. There were people screaming, crying, and_ whimpering_. And there was blood, so much blood. It was as if they'd bled every villager dry – _he _had bled them dry_ – _and collected it in a river that washed the cobblestones red.

Air stuck in her throat for a moment as she blinked, the vision fading away almost as quickly as it had come.

He barely noticed her of course, his eyes – that striking aquiline color – skimming over and passed her in a routine manner, as if she were but nothing. It filled her with an irrational rage, in part fueled by frustration that he just _would not die_, but also because his manner of superiority was irksome.

It was only when his gaze suddenly shifted to her expectantly that Tifa remembered to step aside for him to pass. As he did, she felt a brush of leather against her arm.

Her skin tingled beneath the cotton uniform where he had touched her, and she stared after him with a palpable fury that more than one pair of eyes noticed. It was the pair that didn't though, which evoked the urge to risk everything she'd managed to achieve in the last month, if only to land a blow to his aristocratic nose. She might have done so had her thoughts not been interrupted at that pivotal moment.

"Come in." A voice beckoned from within, thereby eliminating any notions of insurrection, and she turned sharply into the office.

The man sitting behind the desk was one she should've known, but didn't. His name had been circulated beside Sephiroth's for the past few years, but it was quickly overshadowed by the Silver-haired General and the missing member of their trio, Genesis. She recognized him from pictures though.

His black hair swept up from a prominent widow's peak to cascade in loose waves to the base of his neck. He had a dusting of hair on his chin and a strong jaw. His eyes were blue, like so many others in this place, and like so many others it had the glow of SOLDIER.

Her fingers gave an involuntary clench at the reminder. She did not take well to that particular sacrifice, whatever strength it might give her in the long run. It felt wrong, alien.

Angeal – that was his name. She approached the desk, not quite the way she was taught during training, but there was a certain grace to it. No doubt she would be pegged for the member most likely to be gay.

Well, she could deal with that.

The first thing he did was to extend a hand to her in a greeting that he had no doubt repeated a dozen times already that day, "Angeal Hewley, at your service. Congratulations on making SOLDIER." He said, "I'll be your commanding officer here at HQ."

Tifa wondered at the irony of her superior officer proclaiming himself at her service when it was really the other way around, but returned a cordial nod. It was not the sharp disciplined movement that had been so ingrained into most of the SOLDIERS. She had not tamed well.

"Please, sit down." He indicated the chair opposite him as he turned to his console and rolled his shoulders in resignation.

She complied wordlessly.

"Name?"

Tifa licked her lips, summoning the voice she had perfected over the course of her charade, "Eric Lockheart." She replied. She was fortunate in that her range was naturally in the middle, deep for a woman's – deep enough to pass for a man without much difficulty; a very young man anyway.

She watched with morbid curiosity as the man across from her set to work.

Somehow, his broad figure seemed grossly out of place in the plush office chair that coasted on tiny rollers from one side of the desk to the other. He squinted at the keyboard in front of him and typed with an effort that was laborious as he used only his index fingers and sought out each key individually. Several taps and clicks later, he found her extensive file.

"Here we are." He murmured and scanned the page. Then he was back to the keyboard, poking and prodding at it in his awkward way.

Several dozen seconds passed and Angeal glanced up at her, "My apologies," he said with a wry smile. "When you've been here as long as I have, they will invariably devise some way of sticking you behind a desk, no matter how incompetent you are at a computer."

Tifa said nothing, unsure of whether or not a reply was wanted or even permitted under the circumstances. Every officer was different. Some might welcome an informal exchange of words from time to time, but most held an inflated enough opinion of themselves that attempting conversation even in the smallest measurement was an insult that generally insured a harsh rebuke.

Then she tried to picture Sephiroth manning the desk in similar fashion and couldn't do it without risking a very inappropriate bark of laughter. The General, she guessed, did not subject himself to such humiliation. That was delegated to his lesser companions, hence Angeal's current task.

Her eyes and mind began to wander again.

Angeal had strong hands, she noticed; thick, but shapely fingers and well developed forearms. The muscles were accentuated by the action of typing. She had to wonder why he was not sought after as frequently as the other members of the great trio; there was no lacking of pleasure to the eye.

He paused and his brow furrowed ever so slightly. Tifa almost didn't notice the subtle change in his eyes, but it was there. Her heart rate accelerated – something was wrong.

"You are from Nibelheim originally?" His question sent a cold trickle down her back.

She hadn't thought of this. None of her officers up till now had likely even known about what happened there, so they had taken no special notice, but it was a horrendous blunder on her part. She should never have put it on her resume.

"Yes." Her voice wobbled, caught between disguise and terror. Her back poised stiffly, waiting for what she could only assume was to be her doom.

There was something strange, almost hollow in the words that followed, "And how is it there?" Angeal looked at her with a hooded expression and Tifa got the unshakable feeling that her fate hung entirely on the answer she gave.

Bitterness swelled in her throat and she ground her teeth.

_You should know, you burned it to the ground and slaughtered the inhabitants, s_he wanted to say, but everything depended on her not revealing what she knew of that incident. There was a reason no survivors could be found – Shin-Ra had hunted down every last one of them in order to keep their secret. It wouldn't do for them to find out that one had slipped through their fingers.

"I…haven't been home in six years." She managed to sound half-way authentic too.

Angeal seemed to accept that with a disjointed nod and Tifa got the impression that he was no longer there, but immersed in some dark and solemn memory. She had experienced many similar episodes of blank reminiscence since that day. What she_ didn't_ understand, or didn't want to, was how he came to be so haunted by it, for he had never been there to her knowledge.

Had never been there and was currently working for the organization responsible for the very monstrosity that had taken place there. What right had he to care about what had happened? What had he lost?

Had Tifa been in a more rational mood, she might not have been so quick to judge. She might even have been heartened by it. She was not an unreasonable person, despite all reasons to the contrary, but the brief encounter with Sephiroth had left her cold and bitter.

Being here where every surface was a reminder of something she despised left her frazzled and on edge. She wanted to escape, to turn back, but pride prevented her from doing so, and fear that someone would find her if she tried.

A silence lapsed that was eventually broken by the subtle squeak-squeak of the office chair's wheels as Angeal rolled away from his desk to the intricate machine on the table behind him. He stood up slowly, cracked his neck with a poorly disguised sigh, and reached for the electronic pad that was currently hooked up to the mainframe of the computer.

He did not return to the office chair, but skirted around the front desk en route to where Tifa sat. She quickly got to her feet, not wanting to be at such a disparaging height disadvantage, and waited.

"This is your weekly schedule of training and assignments." Angeal said and proffered the thin, flat screened object. He demonstrated its touch screen navigation, giving her a quick rundown of all its functions and any _mal_functions it was prone to. Then he passed it to her, "At the end of each week it will automatically update with your latest assignments."

"Pretty straightforward," He explained, "And it's fairly efficient. Room numbers and passwords should also be stored in there somewhere – lockers are the next door on the right by the way. I trust you've already know where your room is?"

"Yes sir." Tifa replied, inwardly wincing. No matter how she tried, she could never get used to that suffix. It made her feel ridiculous.

So it was almost uncanny when Angeal made a grimace and waved a dismissive hand, "First rule of my squadron – first name basis only. No need to make me feel any older than I already am."

Tifa smiled despite herself and it dawned on her that she might genuinely grow to like the man if he continued on like this. Most of her experiences with officers had been unpleasant. She had come to assume that the higher in rank you climbed, the more unpleasant the people became.

Perhaps when you were at the top you were afforded some room to relax and take a more laid back approach to things. Angeal seemed to think so. Tifa wasn't sure if that alarmed or relieved her more.

"If you have any questions, feel free to ask me." He offered. "Other than that, you're free to go."

She hoped so. All she wanted now was a hot shower and a good night's sleep before she was put through the meat grinder in the morning. SOLDIER trained vigorously on a regular basis, at least four times a week, and she wanted to be ready. It was not unusual to be discharged if you failed to meet the expectations of superior officers. There were always new recruits coming in – always more competition for an opening in the world's largest military force.

Her work would be cut out for her to keep her place among the men for as long as it would take.

And how long would that be? She had to ask herself. It might be forever for all she knew. It occurred to her that she had never conceived of anything beyond this point because she never really believed she'd make it this far.

That left her with a dilemma and a sudden chocobo in the headlights syndrome. Could she do this? What was the next step now that she was here in the midst of the enemy? How long before someone started to notice that she was not at all what she seemed?

"Are you alright?" Angeal's question brought her reeling back to reality with a start.

"I'm fine." She blurted out unceremoniously. He was looking at her with an odd quirk at the corner of his mouth, which evoked the rather random observation that he had the most exquisite bone structure in his face.

Her eyes widened abruptly and she stifled the thought with a grunt. The helm helped to conceal a portion of her blush, but she had to tilt her head down to hide the rest as she beat out a hasty retreat.

The hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end as she fled the office, not daring to look behind her, but knowing somehow that he was watching her with particular interest. She practically ran past her fellow SOLDIERs as they lounged about in the foyer. For those who had known her from basic training, her behavior was of no shock.

Tifa practically dove into the elevator as soon as the doors had parted. As such, she wasn't paying a lick of attention to the person who was at that time on his way out and it was only by a valiant effort on both their parts that they avoided an all out collision.

Sephiroth stood still, staring at her.

Tifa muttered a quick apology, because that's how she'd been raised by her mother, and tried to pretend that he wasn't the one responsible for her father's death. Her gaze cast furtively at his looming figure, for he had not moved. She imagined the scar he carried on his chest and felt an eerie sort of calm settle over her.

They were oddly reserved, his eyes. A lump formed in her throat under his intense scrutiny that she forced back down. It was as if he was seeing her for the first time as something human, flesh and bone. There was an odd sort of curiosity there, which was not an emotion she easily associated with him.

There was only one thing she had associated with him and that had been madness.

"Keep your head up, Soldier." He told her calmly and his voice shook her with its deep resonance. "Head up and eyes peeled always."

Sephiroth disappeared behind the closing elevator as he turned away in a whirl of silver hair and black leather. A strange sensation curled in the pit of Tifa's stomach as she pressed the floor number and the elevator hummed to life. She had spent so long building his image in the likeness of an inhuman monster that the encounter left her feeling somewhat slapped in the face.

It bothered her deeply, almost to the point of guilt for having felt such antipathy towards him. She reminded herself that she had a damn good reason to hate him, but it wasn't the same anymore. Never mind that her mother would've been appalled that she should hate anyone, there really was nothing more she could do to him that she hadn't tried already.

And it had been five years. Five years, and not a whisper of what had happened…

The elevator came to a halt and Tifa stepped out into the hall with an inward sigh. She navigated the winding halls of the dorms with an uncertain gait. A few SOLDIERs passed her on their way out, one nodded a greeting. It would be a while yet before she built her less than stellar reputation as an eccentric outcast.

Her room was a single. She had fought relentlessly for that privilege and had eventually won, only because she had finished in the top three of her squadron. It was one of the few amenities she could enjoy in this madness – a little piece of tranquility, but more importantly it was security.

Tifa had her shower, washed her scalp twice over, and stepped out to stand in front of the clouded mirror. Her hand swept across surface, clearing the glass, and her brow furrowed in grim appraisal of the image that stared back at her. She ran her fingers through her hair, lamenting the loss, and wished fervently that she were anywhere but here in this little cramped excuse for a bathroom.

Her hair would grow back. It had already grown to her shoulders since she cut it over a month ago – that had been one of the most wrenching experiences of her life. She had only to do it once, but convincing the recruitment officer to smuggle her in had been harrowing.

He had openly mocked her, at least until she had given him a sound beating. She'd never hurt someone before that way and it had left a bad taste in her mouth, but she had no other option. It was perhaps the only reason she made it in at all, because he had relished in the idea of watching her fail and put her on the roster for the purpose of revenge.

She had not failed, and he would never whisper a word and risk admitting that he had lost soundly to a woman in hand to hand combat. Or that he had allowed her in to begin with.

No one would demand she remove her helmet now. It was encouraged that they didn't so as to strengthen their image as an army of one. She would grow her hair out again, if it took forever to do it.

Tifa stretched out on her thin bunk and curled beneath the blankets. Here at least she felt a modicum of security. Her door was locked, no one could barge in and make an unfortunate discovery, and she didn't have to hide behind an uncomfortable disguise.

For over an hour she just lay there, staring up at the gray ceiling with a mixture of apprehension and excitement. It was dangerous, maybe impossible, what she intended to do, and yet it gave her a purpose that for four long years she had been without. She had a goal, and tomorrow, she would begin the first real step to achieving what before she had thought beyond her reach.

When she at last fell asleep she dreamt of silver hair, well-muscled forearms, and her undergarments falling inexplicably out of her locker in front of her entire squadron. At which point, Sephiroth entered the scene and informed everyone that it was alright, he was a woman too.

If only real life were so absurd.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Alright, I'm aware that there is another Tifa/Sephiroth fic in the works that uses the same premise of 'Tifa disguises herself as a guy to join SOLDIER'. I have skimmed through it too - any similarities between our stories will be infintecimal, if there at all. I was partly inspiried to write because of that story, but I also want to mention that I had already considered this idea before that story was every posted.

Now, obviously there are certain physical attributes of Tifa's person that wouldn't allow this to be possible under the circumstances, so I'm taking some creative liberty in saying that her chest size is diminshed considerably and her voice isn't as high pitched as it is portrayed in Advent Children, in order for this to all work. I don't like having to do this, but I really wanted to write this story, so I said to hell with it, I'm doing it anyway.

Black Feathers is definitely on Hiatus. I've got two other fics currently posted that I should be finishing (and plan to still), but I got caught up in this project for several weeks and it turned out so well that I've finally decided that I should start posting and see what happens.

So, let me know what you think.

_Faerlyte_


	2. Chapter 2

_**The Warrior**_

_By Faerlyte

* * *

  
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**Chapter 2**

It was 4:30 in the morning when Tifa sprang off the bunk and scrambled for her uniform. She was an early riser by a month of ingrained habit, but it was even more important that she be the first up from now on. The padded under armor suit she wore to conceal and flatten her more noticeable physical attributes was not the easiest thing to get into and on any given day might be a severe struggle, so it was imperative that she had plenty of time to spare.

Her hands slipped and fumbled with tight fabric, wrenching it over her skin. She'd nearly worked herself into a sweat by the time she'd zipped herself up. The blue SOLDIER uniform went on easily, followed by her helm, and she was out the door in a flash, tucking her planner in the back pocket of her pants.

The halls were empty and quiet, the lights dim. There was a curfew in effect at 12 midnight that lasted until 5, which it was just past now, but the lights were not turned back to full for another hour. Training didn't begin until 7, but SOLDIERs were expected to be at the mess hall no later than six.

Tifa found herself standing in front of the elevators with a sense of foreboding. It was really quite unusual for a grunt SOLDIER such as herself to even set eyes on the General, let alone bump into him _twice_ in one day, but she supposed that he was bound to be out and about when he was not away on assignment. She'd really rather avoid any further confrontations though.

Her eyes scanned the hall momentarily and, casting one last lingering glance at the elevators, turned and marched off in the opposite direction. There was a detailed map of the floor somewhere around there. When she found it, she located the stairs and set off again.

It was a good exercise for getting the blood going early in the morning, and she doubted that anyone took the stairs. Judging by the crude concrete flooring and the miscellaneous stains spotting the surface, it was also sorely neglected. No one was going to climb seventy stairs to get some place after all. It was fortunate then that she didn't have business on any floor above 65.

When she got to the cafeteria it was already nearly 5:30 and there was a guard standing outside the closed doors. She hesitated, eyes flickering towards the electronic sign posted on the wall to the right.

It read:

_ Officer's Breakfast: 5:00 a.m. to 5:45 a.m._

_ SOLDIER 3rd and 2nd class: 6:00 a.m. to 6:45a.m._

Tifa frowned slightly. This complicated matters. She stood back, rolling on the balls of her feet as she considered what to do. In the end there was nothing but to stand and wait.

The rest of the early birds were already arriving too. They were mostly 2nd class and would recognize on sight that she was a green blood – how she couldn't fathom, but they always knew. She tried to keep her distance, which only succeeded in drawing their attention. Maybe that's how they knew?

"You one of the new recruits?" Someone asked from her left.

Her head tilted slightly to the side, "Yeah." She said, taking a furtive count of the opposition. There were five of them.

This seemed to amuse them, as only a simple mind could be amused by something so trivial. The SOLDIER that had spoken to her was grinning wolfishly.

"Fresh blood." He crooned in her ear and without warning his hand came crashing down on the top of the helmet with a loud "thwack!"

Tifa hunched forward at the blow, her ears ringing both inside and out as laughter pervaded her dazed senses. There was a dull ache on top of her skull in the area where he had hit her and she tasted blood where she had bitten her tongue.

It wasn't bad as injuries went, but she should have been paying better attention.

In a place like this, hazing was a substantial threat, especially for a green blood that was on the small side and had distinct feminine qualities. Bullies couldn't resist a target like that. The only thing she had going for her was that she was always armed and felt confident that she could defend herself when the time came.

The SOLDIERS wandered off and left her alone for the time being.

By the time 6 o'clock came around, a substantial line had gathered with Tifa standing reluctantly at the front. The hall was filled with groggy conversation and sleep drunken laughter. When the doors finally opened and they were permitted inside, she was immediately shoved out of the way.

The mess was empty to her surprise. She made a cursory glance around the room and spotted two doors leading elsewhere; they must be for the officers, so as not to force upon them the presence of the common soldier during transition.

After a moment's musing, Tifa examined the line and found a suitable spot to elbow her way back in. She had learned early on that sheer doggedness and a willingness to fight for it was the best way of getting what you wanted. It was part of the estranged hierarchy that ruled SOLDIERs and she had established her place somewhere in the middle; someone who kept to herself, but could hold her own if necessary.

The general mood of the procession was less than enthusiastic and once Tifa caught a glimpse of the breakfast bar, she concluded why. She had to marvel at what these people were attempting to pass off as food. The gray, sludgy mass certainly didn't resemble anything edible.

At least there was no food warden ensuring that everyone ate a full serving.

There was, to her infinite relief, an ample fruit basket, and the apples looked appetizing enough. She nabbed the largest one and made a hasty retreat from the curious eyes of her peers. Then she left the cafeteria, biting into her breakfast idly as she walked.

Juice trickled down her chin and she idly flicked it away with the back of her hand.

Tifa kept to the right of the hall to avoid the late arrivals as they fled past in varying degrees of panic. They must take breakfast seriously here for them to be harried by a mere few minutes past 6, but then…this was the military. She was glad to have escaped the rush early, though it would be better if she found a way in during the officer's hour in the future.

The gymnasium was empty when she arrived. It was well furnished and despite its reputation, rather clean. They must clean it every night, she mused, for it to smell as fresh and gleam so bright.

Weapons of various kinds lined the far walls and there was not a single surface left that wasn't padded. Though most SOLDIERs were rarely efficient at anything beyond the assault rifle and grenade, they were expected to train in all aspects of warfare. Those who excelled at it were elevated in rank, those who weren't toiled away as infantry for the rest of their lives.

Tifa already had a leg up on many of them from her training with Zangan.

She sighed despondently and stepped over to the mats to stretch. The memory of her former master cut a sore spot in her heart. He had saved her life that night years ago, and he had vehemently opposed her doing this now. But he didn't try to stop her either and had been invaluable in helping her to pass the physical.

Knowing people was always an advantage and no matter where you were, there were always moles to be found. Zangan knew people.

It was better this way in the end, though he never would have said so to her. He had done the best he could, but he was no father of children and he had never wanted to be. If not for her natural talent for martial arts, he may not have taken her under his wing at all, but he had and he had been good to her.

Somewhere the mechanical swish of a hydraulic door sounded. Tifa lifted her head sharply and straightened to attention. It was Angeal. She gave him a brisk salute and went back to her morning ritual.

Every fiber of her being seemed to be aware of his presence as he paced several feet away from her and proceeded to perform a variety of martial arts maneuvers. Most of them she was familiar with. She watched him from the corners of her eyes, all vestiges of concentration in her own task gone. It was a good thing she had the helm if she was going to make a habit of staring at people like this.

She had the grace to feel mildly embarrassed about it and forced her attention back to the mat. When she took her battle stance and executed a couple rudimentary offenses, she had all but forgotten that Angeal was even there. Martial Arts soothed and relaxed her mind, imbuing her with a sense of raw power that nothing else could.

Perhaps that's why she'd taken to it so well.

Having already had one run in this morning, Tifa's senses were especially sensitive. So when she felt the weight of someone's hand come down on her shoulder, the reaction was immediate. She never recalled having moved so fast in her entire life. It was clear by the expression on Angeal's face as she found herself suddenly straddling his chest with one hand on his throat and the other poised for a finishing blow, that he was rather surprised too.

Tifa let out a tiny gasp and scrambled off him. "I…forgive me, sir!" She stammered, grimaced, and clamped her mouth shut.

"Angeal." He corrected with a wheeze as he sat up and massaged the back of his neck.

"A-angeal." She tried and offered him a tentative hand.

He accepted graciously and she helped him to his feet. "No apology necessary." He said and smiled faintly. "I seemed to have grossly underestimated your reflexes."

Tifa hesitated, caught between beaming with pride and maintaining some manner of a manly front. She doubted that a man beamed when complimented. In the end she had to settle for blank uncertainty.

Angeal stood back then and squared his shoulders to her, arms crossed formidably over his chest. He arched a single brow, "Spar?"

She bit her lip, stopped when she realized what she was doing, and clenched her teeth. Really, what had come over her? She'd thought all her silly girly habits broken by now.

Without a word, Tifa settled back into her battle stance and waited for him to make the first move.

In hindsight, she really should've seen this coming. To give herself credit though, sparingly as it were, she did last a good fifteen seconds and even successfully blocked, attacked, blocked. He was fast – faster than her by a good margin– but it wasn't that which caught her off guard so much as his strength and reaction time, which were phenomenal.

She hit the mat with a head cracking thud and saw stars floating above her. It took several long, concentrated breaths before she could focus on the figure standing over her. At that moment she wanted to bury her face in shame and expulsed a despondent gust of air.

"That was good." Angeal said and practically launched her to her feet with hardly so much as a tug on her wrist.

Tifa scowled under the helm, "Good?" She echoed somewhat incredulously. She'd never been beaten so soundly in her life, and he was only the third best fighter in First Class. She shuddered to think of what Sephiroth might do to her.

_I'd be on the ground before I realized we'd even started. _

"Most green bloods would've gone down in the first five." Angeal replied and took position in front of her again. "Another go?"

Tifa bent her knees and set her lips grimly as she lifted her fists. She knew she couldn't beat him, but she would put up more of a fight this time.

He went for a power strike, which was a lot quicker than any power oriented blow ought to be, but she still managed to dodge to the side. She landed a swift jab to his side. It was not a substantial hit, but she could at least say that she'd landed one on him.

She'd never engaged in a battle so riveting. Her senses, which before had seemed to acute and quick, were sluggish against him. Angeal always seemed to be a step ahead of her, no matter how hard she tried to catch up, but he wasn't holding back either.

His hand clamped down on her wrists suddenly and tried to jerk her into a throw. Tifa writhed and twisted in his grip, caught him in the knee with the steel toe of her boot, and swung a wild shot at his head that he easily evaded. Her breath was starting to gome more haggardly, her hands still moving at speeds she thought previously impossible; it was all she could do to keep up with him.

He grappled her again and she was suddenly sailing over his head. She switched their grip, twisted around, and planted her feet as she landed. Using her momentum and the strength of her legs, she threw him up and over her.

Angeal hit with a grunt and executed a quick roll. He was on his feet immediately, advancing. Tifa sprang back from a crouch, caught a glancing blow to the shoulder and nearly went sprawling, but managed to maintain balance long enough to block the follow up attack.

She lunged to counter, but he was ready. All of a sudden there was a jerk on her arm and she was stumbling forward into him. He busted her lip with an elbow to the face that came perilously close to knocking her helmet off, and slammed his fist into her stomach. She crumbled to the floor at his feet, breathless and in pain, and wondered what on earth had possessed her to do this.

It felt like he'd broken her ribs with that last shot.

The first attempt at sitting up proved beyond doubt that he _had _broken some of her ribs. She bit her lip from crying out in a very unmanly fashion. A cool breeze fluttered against her skin and sank into the core of her body with the restive relief of a standard cure spell. The pain eased, though the bones would likely be bruised for some time. She stood slowly, glancing shyly in his direction as she wiped the blood from her lip on the back of her gloves, and murmured a quiet, "Thanks."

"No need to begin your first day of real training with a handicap." Angeal said. "You'll have more than enough bruises at the end of the day."

Tifa nodded faintly and, not knowing what else to do, turned away. The first arrivals for the morning were filing in from the hall. She wandered to the furthest corner in the room and resumed her practice, doing her best to ignore the buzz of activity around her.

Angeal went around testing a few of the other new recruits that arrived early. Tifa couldn't help peeking over her shoulder to see how their performances compared to hers. She felt a swelling of pride when none appeared to come close to holding up to her time.

Most of them were stronger than she was though. She had to rely heavily on agility and her knack for squirming out of choke holds. That was probably her greatest asset, small though it was, but effective when a stronger opponent thought to overpower her with grappling.

The following three hours were both intense and uncomfortable. There were two hundred men spread out across the floor and while space was ample, Tifa felt crowded and suffocated. She preferred training alone, without the distractions and the constant noise, and certainly without being the only woman who was not supposed to be present in the first place. It was hard to shake the feeling that someone was going to suddenly call her out.

When she hobbled out of the training room at five past ten she felt like she could barely stand. Mornings were designated to muscle building exercises and running. She struggled with the push-ups, though by her standards she'd far exceeded expectations, but those around her seemed to excel at it.

She was not the worst and that was the most important thing. If she could maintain average performance in the exercise categories and slightly above average in weapon skills, she should be alright. That would make her happy.

Evenings were reserved for weapons practice, sparring, and competitions – depending on a SOLDIERs rank, they might have a specialized routine that differed from others. There were always competitions of a sort going on though, from standard hand to hand fighting and weaponry, to materia mastering. She was mildly curious about the hand to hand challenge, but not brave enough to consider it.

For now she would have the afternoon to compose herself and settle in. Official schedules wouldn't be given until after placement testing. They were to initiate those tonight in much the same way a fighting tournament was carried out. Only they would not be facing each other, but passing challenges in the simulator. Whoever passed moved on and whoever didn't toiled away at the bottom rung of the ladder until they could beat the challenge.

_What to do between now and then…_

Tifa snuck away from the crowd of departing SOLDIERs as they filed into the locker room. She would wait until it was empty to check hers. She was supposed to receive a phone for quick contacts, but she was in no hurry to pick it up.

So instead of following the others where men changed and took their showers, she broke off from the entourage and kept going down the main hall to do some exploring. She didn't see the Angeal standing by the entrance to the gym, watching her. She rounded the corner and disappeared from his view.

The floor was a lot bigger than she thought. She got lost twice, tripped over one of the auto-bot cleaners going around one of many corners, and couldn't find the stairs. What she really wanted to find was the Training Room.

It was supposed to be the most extensive training facility ever built, capable of simulating any number of events, places and enemies. She would prefer that to fighting in a room full of men. The loneliness seemed to magnify itself in correlation to the vast number of strangers surrounding her.

When it was clear that she was getting nowhere, Tifa pulled out her planner and brought up a map. There was one for every floor, including the restricted sections, which surprised her. That would come in handy later.

The Training Room, however, was on the 65th floor – the highest floor on her clearance. Tifa, of course, took the stairs, which may have been a mistake after three hours of intense muscle workouts. Her legs were throbbing when she stumbled onto the 65th floor.

There were numerous SOLDIERs hanging out in the lobby watching some sporting event on the TV. She bypassed them and entered the Training Room's observing area. It was already firmly packed. A number of 2nd class SOLDIERs were fighting a malboro in the simulator.

Tifa watched in silent admiration. The simulation was flawless – a perfect rendering of woodlands and earth. She hadn't quite believed it possible until now.

One of the SOLDIERs went down on the battlefield and the gathered crowd gave a collective gasp of alarm.

"Zander's leg is broken." Someone announced grimly. A muttered oath emerged from one of the other SOLDIERs and the room seemed to fall eerily still, as if every breath was held.

"Should we bail them out?"

"Not yet."

"Let 'em fight it."

Tifa was starting to feel a little tense herself as she watched the scene unfold. There were four men left standing, their wounded comrade dragged to the back. Two of them were heavily laden with status effects – one of which was attacking his allies – the other two sporting moderate injuries and labored from exhaustion.

The battle ensued for some time and the tide seemed to shift back and forth, with no certainty of who would be the victor. When the Malboro suddenly fell, the tension in the air subsided and conversation slowly returned to the observatory.

"Five against one Malboro and they still barely won," Someone said and shook their head, "rookies."

A stretcher was brought in for the injured SOLDIER and the remaining squad staggered out bedraggled and beaten, but victorious. The next group went in and a new simulation began – this one with winding halls of steel and pale blue lights. Most of the enemies were robotic.

Tifa didn't stay to watch. She would not set foot into the simulator, except for the placement challenges (which was required), so long as there was an audience. She would have to wait until night when most of the others were asleep to test her skills, and she would start out with something _easy_. No need to get carried away.

She skipped lunch altogether, opting to lie in her bunk and read a book instead. When dinner time came around, Tifa hauled herself up and out. She dreaded this moment more than any other because there was no way of avoiding interaction with other SOLDIERs at dinner.

The mess hall was already half full when she arrived and the line was all the way out into the hall. The sweet and salty aroma of spiced foods drifted to her nose and her stomach grumbled hungrily. She didn't hold much hope for the quality, but at this point she would eat almost anything.

Clinking silverware, raucous laughter, and general conversation thrummed in Tifa's ears as she entered the cafeteria, the line approaching ever closer to the food bar. Once she got there and had a tray in hand the line moved a lot quicker. There was an array of vegetables, both fresh and steamed, mashed potatoes, biscuits, beef steaks, and pork. There was even a dessert bar.

It was a lot better than she was expecting after her experience with breakfast that morning, but she got the impression that the best was saved for the higher ranks. She took her tray ladled with vegetables and meat, and sought out the emptiest table she could find, which was at the very back of the hall in a shadowed corner where one of the ceiling lights had burned out. There she sat with her back to the wall so that she could see anyone who might approach.

She ate her meal in silence, studying those around her with disinterest. There were five other people sitting at her table, variously spaced from one another. Two of them sat across from each other at the opposite end and appeared to be friends, or at least they exchanged words frequently – they were both 3rd class like herself.

The other three were 2nd class and seemed to keep to themselves, though they did occasionally exchange words. Tifa got the impression that this had become somewhat of a ritual with all of them occupying the same table every day. They knew each other by habit.

At some point, one of them turned to look at her and continued to do so for the better part of a minute before scooting over to sit straight across from her. Only the bottom half of his face was visible, sporting a goatee on his chin. He tipped up his visor, revealing glowing brown eyes – something Tifa had never seen before – set against dark, velvet brown skin.

"What's ya name, small fry?" He asked.

Tifa swallowed the bite of meat she had been chewing with some effort before answering, "Eric Lockheart."

The SOLDIER bobbed his head twice, a mane of tiny black braids rippling down his back from under his helm. He seemed to come to a decision of sorts and twisted around to face her squarely, leaning on his elbow. "Might want to watch ya back around here. The young and the small always get it first – not good odds for being young _and_ small, ay?"

She paused, her fork suspended above her tray as she considered him. Of course he would think her young. Her voice might be disguised, but as men went it would easily be misinterpreted as simply underdeveloped. That she was relatively sleight served only to back up that theory.

"I'll manage." She answered.

He arched a dubious brow, "It's a whole new ball game here you know." He cautioned and flashed a set of perfectly white teeth, "Picked a good table though."

Tifa gazed skeptically from the SOLDIER down to her half empty tray and then to the garbage can not far away. She'd had enough to eat. Maybe she could get away…

"Hey," The SOLDIER's voice interrupted her thoughts and he was all the sudden on his feet, taking her tray and nodding towards the door. "Come on, we'll get in first, before the little packs of hyenas."

She almost cracked a smile, but found herself craning her neck further and further to look up into his face. He was taller than she first guessed. A _lot _taller.

When she didn't at first move, he walked over beside her, grabbed her by the back of the collar and jerked her off the seat. It didn't hurt, but it startled her enough that she grabbed for his wrist without thinking and gave it a sharp twist.

The SOLDIER let go with a hiss of pain and a wince. He grinned cheekily, "Fair enough." He said, "Angeal said you were good with the fists. I'm pretty good myself."

Tifa eyed him warily, "What do you want?"

He rolled his eyes in return, "Sparring partner, Fry, sparring partner."

Her throat convulsed, "I don't know…"

"It's good practice." The SOLDIER offered. "And you don't walk the halls alone, ay? Purely symbiotic relationship."

Now it was her turn to arch an inquisitive brow, "Why?"

"Because I'm Angeal's favorite under-achiever and I have nothing better to do." He answered cryptically, "So, you coming or what?"

A large portion of her brain was screaming a vehement "NO!", but the socially deprived part of her was tempted by the lure of a potential friend. She had spent the better part of a month talking to no one and lurking in shadows as often as she could. It was starting to drive her mad.

And if he was honest, which she couldn't say he wasn't yet, he did make a fair point, especially when one considered his size. Tifa was going to guess that, while he clearly didn't socialize with his fellow SOLDIERs, no one was overly eager to make an example of him. That could be of help, if he wasn't out for something else himself.

"Alright." She relented and followed him out of the cafeteria.

When they were in the hall, Tifa hastened her stride to walk beside him. His legs were as spidery long as his arms, but he wasn't skinny. Wiry would be a more accurate term.

"Name's Chaka by the way." The SOLDIER mentioned and absently flicked down his visor. "You got a phone yet?"

"Oh!" Tifa started and came to a halt, "I forgot. I haven't checked my locker."

She was glad his visor was down because she was sure he was giving her a strange look behind it. _Everyone _frequented the locker room. It's just what "the guys" did. She'd have a hard time explaining why she would not under any circumstances come near it as long as it was occupied.

"We can pick it up on the way to the Simulator." Chaka suggested.

Tifa gave a nod and they continued on in silence for a time. The halls were a lot busier than she expected with activity flowing both ways. Many SOLDIERs were leaving on assignment or returning, as would become her routine very soon.

A thought struck her, but she bit her tongue from voicing it out loud. She cast a sidelong glance at her companion and considered how to approach the subject without sounding too suspicious.

"How long have you been 2nd class?" She asked first, opting to start small.

Chaka shrugged his wide shoulders, "Longer than anyone else can boast." He answered.

Her brow furrowed and she wondered if maybe she shouldn't ask what she was thinking. She recalled his comment from earlier, "Angeal's favorite under-achiever?" She echoed, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

He laughed. "Ay, that's right, yes indeed."

Tifa noticed that Chaka did not adhere to military protocols for walking either. His head slumped slightly forward from the neck and he walked with a light-hearted swagger from the waist. It was almost like he was moving in time to a beat.

"Why did you join if you weren't interested in making First Class?" She ventured.

Chaka glanced sideways at her and at first said nothing. Then he stopped altogether. Tifa did too, confused, but curious.

He lifted his visor, his eyes dark and grave as he looked down at her. Tifa felt a pang of guilt that she could not demonstrate the same trust, but there was nothing for it.

"You know what happens when you're the loser and they're the winner?" Chaka asked.

Tifa shook her head.

"Well, " He began, "They give you what they fancy callin' a "choice", which ain't a choice at all really, because no one's takin' the executioner over a chance to live, even if it is for the enemy."

With that he abruptly started back down the hall, his stride so long and swift that Tifa had to run to catch up. It took some time to mentally digest his words. They left a bitter taste in her mouth, but it gave her a new perspective on the men in blue.

It had never occurred to her that some of them might not be there voluntarily. Perhaps she should have. They were living in a prison that allowed them to live, but have no real life.

She almost blurted out "I'm sorry", but thought better of it. Maybe from a woman, but if she wanted to maintain a manly persona she'd have to be a little rougher around the edges. She settled for something less saccharine.

"That sucks." She had to wonder at what bizarre mental process had lead her to that answer. It was almost as bad as saying "I'm sorry".

Chaka gave a noncommittal grunt. "That's the way the earth crumbles, ay?"

The unique choice of words sent a shiver down Tifa's spine. The state of the world remained a constant in the back of her mind, but she tried not to think about. She'd heard rumors of terrorist organizations on the rise because of the planet's noticeable deterioration in recent years. It had even crossed her mind to join one a few times, but a more immediate concern kept her from taking that last step.

She wondered what Chaka would say if he knew how she felt about Shin-Ra. A person can get used to the most dismal circumstances. Pretty soon it becomes your home, whether you like it or not. He could just as well turn her in as anyone else.

They came to a stop to wait for the elevators. Chaka crossed his arms, yawned, and leaned casually against the wall.

Tifa stood stiffly to the other side, brooding. After a while her lips parted to speak, running ahead of her thoughts before she could catch up, "Do you know Sephiroth?"

Chaka gave her a puzzled look, "Know him?" He repeated, "Shit, as well as the next flunky I guess. Why?"

Her shoulders shrugged, "Just wondering. You know, everyone calls him a hero and all, but he seems kind of…odd."

"That's one way of putting it." He snorted. His expression turned solemn, "Can't say I don't blame him though."

She lifted her head a fraction towards him, "What do you mean?"

Chaka shifted around so that his back was flat against the wall, "The guy has spent his entire life in the military, from the time he was a wee thing to now. Doesn't have a lick of socialization, no concept of a good time, and probably couldn't navigate a woman if she drew him a map."

Tifa choked on her own saliva, which induced a small coughing fit at the end of which she was a deep shade of crimson. That was _way_ more information than she cared to know concerning Sephiroth's private life. It was also the first time that the mention of him had inspired anything besides hatred.

One set of elevator doors suddenly opened and two SOLDIERs stepped out. They walked by without a word and Tifa and Chaka entered. Once the elevator was in motion, Chaka resumed where he had left off.

"Can't say I'd want to know what they did to him before that either. That Hojo man…scary dude, _scaaary _dude."

Tifa shivered, but voiced her curiosity despite it, "Who is Hojo?"

"Raving mad scientist. Don't cha love it?" He supplied. "Rumor has it he's Sephiroth's father, though I can't see a resemblance. The guy looks like a hobgoblin."

Her brow knitted together, "I see."

"But yeah, anyway," Chaka tapped the toe of his right boot with the heel of his left. "Sephiroth's not so bad. He just doesn't spend much time around…anyone really."

Tifa bit back the urge to utter something unkind. They didn't even know the monster they kept – what he was capable of. She felt trapped with the knowledge, unable to confide to someone and afraid of being found out.

Sephiroth had seen her before. She had made certain he got a good look after she'd driven the masamune through his back all the way to the hilt. There had been no doubting his madness then, raving like a lunatic to "_Mother_", the megalomaniac alien. Tifa had given her a nice stabbing too, just for good measure.

If he saw her face now, just her eyes even…would he recognize her? Would he remember that day? She wondered if he remembered anything at all.

And if he didn't…what then?

Tifa didn't want to think about it.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Ok, so we have the introduction of an original character. I'd much rather stick to characters from the game, but in order for this to work realistically the way I want it to, I had to put him in there. But don't worry, everyone is going to make an appearance at some point.

Also, I can't remember the correct arrangement of the floors in the Shin-Ra building, so there may be some discrepancy there. My knowledge of military conducts, training, and so forth is limited, so I'm taking creative liberties again and molding the world to serve the purpose of the story. Basically, I'm making it up as I go and hoping that it passes off as believable. Ahhh, the joys of fanfiction writing.

Anyhow, showsome love if you're reading. I appreciate the input and it keeps me upbeat and writing.


	3. Chapter 3

_**The Warrior**_

_by Faerlyte_

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**Chapter 3**

The hall was nearly deserted when Tifa and Chaka emerged from the elevator. There were a couple SOLDIERs that came and went, but for the most part it was empty. Testing wouldn't begin until seven and everyone was still eating or out and about somewhere.

At least if they got to the simulator early she'd have some experience fighting in it and be better prepared for what the tests might have to offer.

They arrived at the Training Room door and went inside. Chaka gave her a rundown of the controls for setting up a custom sequence, which was a lot less complicated than she would've thought. The more she learned about it, the greater her excitement grew.

She could come in here at night when no one else was around and bring to life whatever setting she desired. It was like a dream. She could even go home…

"Here we go," Chaka dialed in some numbers and went to the entrance, punching the door panel. It slid open, revealing a cold, still room bereft of any adornment.

Tifa followed more slowly behind him, eyes peering at the blank gray walls with a sinking feeling. Then the door shut and the scene shifted. The air crackled with energy as tiny particles began to take shape.

Next thing she knew they were standing in a vast plain with an enormous tree nearby. Its branches grew out in a fan-like formation with a wide, tall canopy. She'd never seen one in real life before, but recognized it from pictures of the southern plains.

Chaka turned to face her with a grin, "A little bit of home." He said and settled into his battle stance.

A man that tall and lanky shouldn't have been capable of such sudden speed, but he was. It took some time for Tifa to adjust. How were they all so fast?

The experience was far more enjoyable than she had expected, in part because Chaka seemed more adamant to teach than to win. He was more advanced in training than her, but not quite as strong as Angeal. He had a way of fighting that was almost casual, as if he didn't need to apply himself because his heart really wasn't in it.

So instead he advised her.

"Wait, stand like this." He would say and she would try. "That's better."

Or, "When I do this," He demonstrated an attack maneuver, "You do this." And he would counter what he'd just done, using her as his test dummy. Then he grinned down at her where she lay sprawled on the grass. "Your turn."

They continued like that for thirty minutes and at the very end Tifa scraped out a narrow victory. By then a small audience had gathered, including Sephiroth himself, but Tifa didn't know that.

She quickly helped Chaka to his feet and it was then that the door slid open and the General appeared.

Tifa stood rigidly watching him. His eyes lingered on her for a fraction longer than normal.

When he spoke, however, it was to address Chaka, "We have need of the simulator." He said. "I believe Angeal has posted another assignment in your log."

"Excellent." Chaka replied.

He bid Tifa goodbye and insisted that she take his phone number for when she got around to looking in her locker for her phone. She had forgotten about it earlier in the midst of their conversation about Sephiroth's sex life. Thinking about it now, when she was in such close proximity to the man himself, made her blush all over again.

Tifa thought she might never be able to put that image from her mind. For a fleeting moment he was human again, not the monster she remembered. Maybe he had been, once upon a time.

She cast a withering glance in his direction and walked by him without a word. He probably noticed that too, despite the visor. His eyes were burning holes into her back as she left.

Angeal showed up presently and gave the recruits a run down on the situation. Testing would run alphabetically according to last names, which meant that she was going to be waiting a little while for her turn. None of the recruits were allowed into the observatory while testing was taking place, so everyone was herded out into the lounge except for the first name on the list.

Tifa found a secluded corner to sit down on the floor and leaned her head back against the wall with a sigh. She found herself dozing before she realized her eyes had even closed and jerked awake with a start, glancing around sharply. Nothing had changed, but the air seemed to crackle with the buildup of tension in the room.

The door to the Training Room swished open and a dejected figure limped out. He bowed his head, pushed off any condolences from his comrades, and went straight for the elevators without so much as a "Leave me alone."

He was not the only one. She watched several leave the dreaded test taken down a few notches from when they'd entered. No one was boasting anymore and those who still waited with her had become eerily quiet.

Then it was her turn. She didn't know how much time had passed, but as soon as Angeal appeared and her name was called, she jumped to her feet and felt the nerves taking root. Her legs did not betray her as she crossed the roomed and entered the observatory, but she felt the quickness of breath and the sudden shiver of anticipation.

Sephiroth stood staring through the glass window that looked into the simulator room. He didn't see her or appear to even notice her arrival. She was just another anonymous face in blue again.

"You received sniper training?" Angeal stood off to her left, a file in hand as he peered up at her curiously.

She nodded. "Yes sir." New recruits were allowed their firearms of choice for testing. Most of them carried autos or semi-autos, but her sergeant had apparently seen something in her that persuaded him to hand her a sniper rifle instead.

Her superior officer closed the file with a snap. "Very well. A rifle will be provided during simulation."

Tifa had no prior knowledge or interest in firearms, but learning to use them was a stipulation of joining SOLDIER at the basic level. Everyone had to know how to handle firearms or they were out the door. Initially it had annoyed her, now she was glad.

It is unwise to be ignorant about something that dangerous. Knowledge is power, power is to be respected, and respect prevents accidents.

Angeal had launched into a lecture concerning the use of the room itself, its functions, certain precautions, and so forth. She listened carefully, trying not to let her mind wander to the other occupant in the room. He was watching her from the corners of his eyes.

"Injury sustained in the simulator is real. Don't let yourself get killed." Angeal's voice penetrated her inattentiveness.

"Defeat your opponents and you will move onto the next challenge. You will be provided with limited provisions and healing items, as well as rudimentary materia."

Did they expect her to do all the challenges in one go? Tifa frowned slightly. Just how many challenges were there?

She was directed to enter the room and all questions or thoughts of Sephiroth were erased from her mind. Her fingers flexed anxiously as the room began to take shape. A metal hallway pierced by blue ceiling lamps stretched out in front of her. It was empty and quiet.

Tifa gave a shudder and shouldered her sniper rifle before setting off. She glanced behind to verify that there were no other routes to take, and that there was officially no escape. She kept her eyes peeled, which had, ironically, been Sephiroth's earlier advice. Her focus was such that that little fact slipped past.

There were robots patrolling the halls ahead. She could hear the mechanical hum of their engines long before they came into view. Tifa's scowl of concentration deepened and beads of sweat began materializing along her brow. She had a thunder materia equipped, which would help, but fists and feet were not as effective against robotics. It basically limited her to using power attacks, which drained both magic and energy.

Tifa swung the sniper rifle around and tucked the stock against her shoulder, gripping the forearm firmly in her left hand as her right grasped the pistol grip behind the trigger. One eye closed as she peered through the scope at her target, taking aim at its electronic core, or what she _thought _was its brain.

The cross-airs leveled slowly on the spot she had chosen and she squeezed the trigger. The gunshot blasted down the hall, the noise magnified tenfold by the enclosed space. Her helmet was designed to smother loud noises that were potentially harmful to the ears, but it still gave her head a good ring.

The robot whirled off to one side and crashed into the wall before collapsing to the floor in a crackling heap. Satisfied, Tifa shouldered her rifle and continued on. She probably wouldn't earn many points for eliminating the adversary with firepower, but neither was she enthusiastic about bruising her hands on solid steel this early in the game.

Besides, everyone else would be blasting away without restraint. She couldn't be doing any worse.

Two more robots confronted her. The first she was able to shoot down, but the second was too close and she had to engage it hand to hand. Most robots had gun based attacks, which, without a suitable barrier spell on hand, were extremely lethal. SOLDIERs did wear body armor though and hers was especially strong.

It was a good thing too because she was sure that in the midst of her ducking and running she had taken at least one bullet. She threw in an attack here and there, striking for its vital parts, which consisted of exposed wiring and joints. Her strength was ebbing though – she hadn't expected the challenge to be this difficult.

Robots were both strong and intelligent. It took time to wear them down, but Tifa was trying to persevere. Trying and failing. The only thing that kept her going was Cloud, because it was for him that she did this, and it was for him that she would fight to the death.

She managed to dispatch part of its targeting system and one of its machine guns, which gave her time to cast. A thunderclap struck the robot's body and the contraption fell into singed pieces on the floor. Then it vanished.

The deeper Tifa explored, the more convoluted and confusing the corridors became. She ended up in a dead end at one point, spent half an hour disposing of another robot, and backtracked to where the last fork in the path had been. There she took the other route and eventually wound up in an extensive room with a high ceiling and curved walls.

In the center of it waited a monster of respectable size. Tifa didn't recognize it, but she could sense its power as it approached, and her skin rippled with the first vestiges of real fear.

It stood on four legs and had what appeared to be the head of a lion (though it was hardly noble), the ungainly wings of a bird, and a multi colored body that was reminiscent of a lizard. Tifa grimaced at the smell wafting from it, for it was fetid and sour. The creature was entirely unnatural and ghastly in its mutation.

Tifa almost preferred the robots, though the beast's hide, while tough in its own right, was not near as resistant. She put a bullet into it first, but its barrier deflected most of the damage, so she discarded the rifle and settled into her combat stance.

The creature was not overly fast for its wings were crooked and awkward, and while it could fly, it didn't fly well. Tifa was able to keep out of its reach whenever it took to the air or attempted to dive bomb, for its direction was poor in flight and often times it crashed on the landing. Then she would slip in to attack, land as many hits as she could, and retreat back to a safe distance.

Avoiding its front talons was most imperative. They were long and quick; one successful hit from them and she might not get up again. Fortunately for her, the beast was helping her out by taking to the air frequently and putting itself into a bad position.

Tifa got her opening when the beast miscalculated its flight path and crashed into the wall. She landed a punch to the front right leg and snapped the kneecap. The creature reared back and roared, unleashing a shockwave that blasted her back several feet. A tiny sliver of pain lanced up her right leg from a pinched nerve in her ankle on the landing and she straightened shakily.

Her mouth set in a determined line as she considered the monster. Her legs flexed, ready to spring, and her gloves became taught over her clenched fingers.

She moved swiftly, summoning her strength from overlimit, and ducked under the creature's swiping claws to land a series of punches. Her hands throbbed with each blow, but she could hear the splintering of bone and the enraged cry of the beast, and she could feel its innards collapsing under her knuckles.

With one last burst of speed and adrenaline, Tifa flipped into the air and made a kick at the lion's head with her steel toed boot. There was a loud "pop" as the vertebra snapped under the impact and its neck went limp. It was dead before she hit the ground.

Immediately the scene began to shift. Tifa quickly downed an elixir and waited. Tiny particles scattered and reformed into an entirely new environment.

She stood on a dirt trail that wove through a thicket of trees and underbrush. It was sweltering hot and clammy, though the sun barely penetrated the thick forest canopy. The scent of fresh rain lingered on the air with a faint sweetness of wildflowers.

Tifa felt herself involuntarily relax. She turned into the woods in the vicinity of where her rifle had been before the setting had changed. At first she was worried that that it had disappeared in the transformation, but she found it under the foliage after a quick search. She returned to the path, her clothes slightly damp, and started walking.

A sudden attack by the local flora eliminated any illusions of tranquility. Tifa had to wonder as she was spit on, bit, and otherwise made a scratching post by the spindly little plants, how such a perversion had come to be, for it couldn't be natural. The spittle was poisonous she found out, somewhat belatedly, but was able to break the last one's neck before she became incapacitated.

She'd only been allotted one antidote, which she used, but she would have to be careful from now on. Poisons were nothing to laugh about. It rankled in her chest that, in an environment containing poisonous beasts, they would give only _one_ antidote.

No one with any sense would bring only one antidote into a place like this. Poor planning if you asked her.

Tifa exhaled long and resigned. At least it was nice here. She preferred nature to the soulless manufactured walls of steel any day, even if it wasn't quite real. They certainly did a fine job of making it seem so.

The thought had barely finished before something came crashing through the brush from off the path to the right. Whatever it was made an enormous racket, snapping off trees and snarling a blue streak. When a giant, furry brown head lunged out from the trees, Tifa gave a yelp of surprise and staggered back, rolling to the side just in time as it bowled past her.

She pivoted sharply on her heel, facing the creature.

It looked like it might have once been a bear, but that was before someone had decided to refurbish its body with new parts. The head was bear and the claws were bear, but the rest of it resembled a patchwork stuffed animal. There were literally stitches holding its splotchy, matted fur of various colors together.

Tifa knew bears from Nibelheim, though they were rare in comparison to the number of wolves, and she was dead certain that you didn't find them in the tropics. Whoever was in charge of the simulator needed to check their facts a bit more closely, and while they were at it, quit experimenting with nature, because this was highly disturbing.

Her only consolation was that, if it had been a real bear, she wouldn't have avoided it so easily. Fighting men was one thing – fighting a bear was something else entirely. This monstrosity could hardly walk straight let alone attack with any efficiency, but if it were to land a blow…

The bear skidded to a halt a distance into the trees where it promptly turned around and charged back at her. This time Tifa was prepared and instead of dodging aside, met him head on with a well placed kick to the nose. It wasn't a killing blow, but it dazed him so that she could make a follow up strike.

She aimed for the joints, hoping to break a knee. Her first attempt failed – she hadn't used enough force and the stubby legs were thick, tougher than she'd expected. It made a swipe for her as she back-stepped and felt its claws rip into her abdomen, tearing the body armor.

Air hissed between her teeth and her hand went reflexively towards the wound. It hadn't pierced the skin – just scared the wits out of her.

The bear, seeing its target hesitate, made another lunge at her. He was aiming at her head with a massive paw and missed. Tifa spun to the side and countered with another low kick to its leg. This time she heard a satisfying snap.

A horrible sound came out of the bear's throat. It was half way between a wailing scream and a snarl. A dull red glow came to its eyes and Tifa strangled a moan in the back of her throat.

He was going into some form of a berserk mode.

Acting purely on instinct, she bull-rushed him, punching and kicking wildly. She wanted to put it down before it had a chance to attack. Her legs wobbled beneath her when she finally stumbled back, panting from exertion.

She'd wounded it without question, but it was still on its feet and with the bloodlust came an unstoppable rage.

Tifa's brain flailed for an escape, but there wasn't time to think beyond simple dodge, block and run. The bear came at her with a ferocious roar, its broken leg dragging uselessly behind it, and caught her in the side as she tried to roll away. It knocked the wind out of her and the bear bore down, its canines dripping saliva on her face. She did the only thing she could think of: she summoned fire, and hoped that her concentration held long enough to be successful.

Tiny ribbons of flame burst forth from her hands where they dug into the bear's chest. Its jaws were clamping down on her helmet when the scent of burning hair and flesh filled her nostrils. She was abruptly dropped back to the ground as the monster shrieked in pain, recoiling, and collapsed in a pile of smoking flesh and bone.

Tifa gagged as she got onto her hands and knees and slowly inched away from the smoldering carcass. She picked up her rifle, which she'd dropped during the fight, and crawled a little further before stopping to catch her breath. She'd hardly sat there a minute before the scene changed again and she was blasted with a harsh, frigid wind.

Everything was white, except for the creature writhing towards her from the icy path ahead.

If there was one thing that could possibly strike absolute horror into her very bones at that moment in time, it was that. She scrambled to her feet, slipped and careened off into a tree. She caught herself and tried not to panic, though her mind was moving in every direction.

Surely this couldn't be the second challenge? Only Sephiroth himself would dare take on a creature of this caliber. Certainly not her!

The memory from earlier that afternoon came back to her full force. Five SOLDIERs against one Malboro, and they'd barely won. She didn't stand a chance.

Tifa's heart hammered in her chest as she fumbled numbly with her provisions pack for something that resembled a bomb. Then she proceeded to throw everything she had at it; her barrage had little to no effect on it. Malboros had a magic shield from hell.

_I'm going to die._ There was no doubt about it. A thought flitted curiously through her mind…did they bother to rescue their recruits before they were demolished, or was this part of the natural selection that eliminated the weak? They couldn't have much of a military if that was the case – no one would survive.

The malboro was still a distance off, but coming ever closer as Tifa wracked her brain for ideas. She gripped the sniper rifle with white knuckles and wished fervently that she had joined the eco-terrorists instead. There were five rounds in the magazine and she had one more clip of five left. It was possible that ten solid hits would cause significant damage, if the subsequent shots worked to weaken its shield.

There was nothing else she could do as fighting it close up risked getting hit by its poison breath, which would be almost instant death. She didn't have the power to make a killing blow to something that substantial either.

Tifa's hands trembled as she lifted the rifle to her shoulder and tried to take aim. Sweat trickled down her forehead and into her eyes, despite the cold. She swiped at it with the back of her hand and tried again to look into the scope.

A Malboro was so large in size and so thick that determining a critical spot was almost impossible. The head made up half of its body with a gaping maw set with razor sharp teeth. The rest of it was writhing tentacles that propelled it across the ground.

She settled for above the mouth and fervently hoped there was something vital up in there. It was a big enough target that she didn't have to worry about missing.

The air shuddered with the resonating crack of the rifle and steam billowed from the barrel end. The bullet pinged off the barrier and disappeared into the snow.

"Damn it!" Tifa swore.

She chambered another shell, took aim, and fired again. That one bounced off too. Now the malboro was getting dangerously close. Tifa began back pedaling, shooting a third round as she did.

The ricochet almost hit her that time. She jumped back another step only to trip on a jutting rock and land on her backside with a grunt. The malboro somehow accelerated on its ungainly legs.

Desperation clenched in Tifa's nerveless fingers as she jacked in a fourth shell and lifted the rifle. The cross-airs were all over the place as she tried to find her target, which the closer it got the harder it was. She adjusted the scope power and took a deep breath, pushing it out long and slow.

The cross-airs fell on the mark and she pulled the trigger. Her eyes did a double take when, instead of reflecting off again, she was met by the sound of shattering glass. At first she was too stunned to move. It was fortunate that the malboro, now only fifteen feet away, was also momentarily stunned, because it could have blasted her in the time it took for her to regain her senses.

Tifa was up and scrambling a split second later with the savage plant-life hot on her heels. Now at least she had a sliver of hope, and six shells remaining. There was one already in the chamber. She loaded the remaining five as she ran.

When she'd gotten what she judged to be far enough, Tifa skidded to a halt and whirled back around. There was penetration with the shot this time and the Malboro paused, but made no sound of pain. That wasn't exactly encouraging, but it was better than watching her bullets bounce harmlessly off.

It was about that time, when Tifa turned to put some more distance between them, that the second one made its appearance. Her eyes widened impossibly and she planted her boots, which found no traction whatsoever. Then she was sailing backwards through the air, her back slamming against the ice, followed by her head.

_They're trying to kill me, _she decided fuzzily as she lay there, staring up at a gray sky. _Somehow they've found out and now they're bumping me off in the training simulator. _

Her head hurt. _I don't want to die here._

She gasped, pushed herself to her feet, and dove off into the snow at a run. It came up above her knees. Her chest heaved and her lungs burned as she pushed and dragged, and pushed, plowing a trail to nowhere. There was snow coming down too, so she couldn't see but ten feet in front of her.

But she could hear their pursuit behind her.

Tifa came to a beleaguered halt and glanced behind her. Her heart gave a leap as she saw the Malboro's advancing at speeds that were illogical in this terrain. Another shell slid into the chamber and she took aim at the wounded of the two.

The bullet struck.

She quickly chambered another round and fired a follow up shot.

There was a sizeable hole in the flesh above its head now and it did appear to have slowed down some. The second one was coming up on its left. Tifa had no idea what she was going to do about that, but she thought she could at least finish the first one off if nothing else.

Two shots later it was still lumbering towards her, its head oozing a pale yellow fluid. The second malboro was closing the distance even more rapidly. Tifa went for the bolt of her rifle, knowing that it was stupid because she didn't have time to put another shell in and fire. She'd be soaking in poisonous breath as soon as the shot went off…but she was that _close _to putting the one down!

So she did it anyway and by god the bastard crashed into the snow in a flurry of squirming tentacles, its mouth gagging and gurgling as it expelled blood from the corners. She threw herself to the ground as a great expulsion of air from her right registered in her brain. A cloud of rotten green gas settled over her, burning against her flesh.

The instant she hit the snow the intense cold had begun to fade and a sickening sensation clenched in her stomach. Tifa rolled onto her side, shutting her eyes, and was thoroughly ill. She was vaguely aware that the floor was now a floor and that the limited light around her was artificial. There were rapid footfalls too and voices she couldn't focus on, but somehow knew.

Then she was sitting up, the dizziness fading, her injuries healed, and her eyes clear. She wanted to lunge at the first person she saw and demand what the hell had just happened. Unfortunately, the first person she saw was Sephiroth, and while she would've cheerfully lunged for _his _throat, she seriously doubted she would actually succeed.

Tifa looked around and met Angeal's concerned gaze. He appeared at least moderately flummoxed, and perhaps a little sorry, though it was hard telling for certain.

"Nicely done." He said.

Her eyes narrowed a fraction, though the action was lost on them. "What sort of challenge is this?" She wanted to know, struggling to keep her voice level, "Are you trying to kill me?"

Angeal actually had the good sense to appear apologetic. "We did pull you out before that could happen."

She stood as if she'd been burned and took a step back from them. Sephiroth, who was standing directly in front of her with his arms crossed, appeared totally unaffected by the whole thing. It filled her with murderous thoughts that made her somewhat uncomfortable.

Killing a person repeatedly couldn't be healthy for the psyche.

"What—" And she squared her shoulders to her nemesis, "…are you looking at?" She exasperated, because she really couldn't say what she desperately wanted to, and that's all that she could think of in its stead.

Sephiroth's brow darted upwards slightly, "I am impressed." He replied, as if it were completely obvious.

Tifa chose to disregard that and leveled Angeal with a frown, "Malboros?"

"No one is expected to defeat them." Angeal explained. "It's a test, to see how well you react in the face of what is supposed to be unbeatable odds."

She blinked, "Oh."

Angeal grinned and gave her a clap on the back that almost buckled her knees. "_Very_ nicely done."

Sephiroth had already turned and walked back to the door. He stopped there, turning his head to one side, and said, "Next time, you will defeat it without the rifle."

Tifa wasn't sure whether it was meant as an order or some kind of bizarre premonition. She had no intentions of ever facing another malboro again – not without extensive back up anyway – let alone with just her fists. There was only so much one could do when limited to human strength.

Unless you were Sephiroth of course, but not just anyone could be that.

A sudden epiphany caused her nose to scrunch thoughtfully. She'd never seen _Sephiroth_ fight anything without his sword. How did that work she wondered?

Tifa was disrupted from that train of thought when the door shut behind the departed General. She glanced at her superior officer, only to find him staring after his friend with a troubled look on his face.

A quiet sigh passed over Angeal's lips as he turned and forced a smile for her. "Welcome to 2nd class."

For several long and deafeningly loud seconds of silence, Tifa didn't say anything at all. It was incomprehensible. She tried to wipe the stunned expression from her face, but the severity of that simple phrase sank in too deeply for her to salvage any dignity.

The idea of making 2nd class had never crossed her mind because she was competing with men, not to mention she'd basically cheated. All that accomplished was drawing more unwanted attention anyway, which she desperately wanted to avoid. Another words, this was not supposed to happen.

"Oh."

The sound of Tifa's deadpanned proclamation reverberated off the walls of the training simulator for what felt like an eternity. Then the sound settled and left silence in its wake.

Angeal's lips parted, his brow wrinkling in consternation at her rather tepid response, but whatever he had thought to say never came out. Eventually he cleared his throat and said, "Well, uh, your log will automatically be updated with a new training schedule and you'll find a new uniform in your locker."

Tifa nodded blearily. "Ok."

Right then it felt like the world had been moving 100 miles an hour, only to jerk to a complete stop and launch her whirling off into space. Somehow she'd gotten to be in 2nd class SOLDIER in only a day of training. It wasn't supposed to happen that fast – she was supposed to have time.

"Eric?" A voice beckoned.

She almost didn't respond, so unused to the name as she was, but an alarm bell rang somewhere in her mind and she snapped to. "Yes?"

Angeal was studying her closely, as if he saw something that didn't quite fit. It was the sort of look that made her want to shrink into a dark corner, but she settled for hiding behind her collar. "Do you have family? In Nibelheim?"

Tifa stiffened, the words falling out of her mouth automatically, "No."

_I don't have anything anywhere…_

For a moment Tifa thought he would pursue the subject further, but he seemed to reconsider. He reached up to massage the back of his neck. "I suppose you'll have to settle for celebrating in the city of Midgar then." He said, "You can take tomorrow off."

"Thank you." Tifa answered and, taking that as a dismissal, left the room.

She hastened into the hall and made straight for the elevators. Now that it was over, all her nerves unraveled at once and she was shaking from head to toe. The only thing on her mind was a shower and her bunk, dismal though it was.

That night Tifa was regaled to by the General himself of the restorative properties that the 6 o'clock mystery breakfast had on hair (he was wearing some himself) and how Chaka's woman map was utterly useless in Midgar because all the landmarks were in the wrong place. He proceeded to inform her –with a straight face – that she should wear the bowl of his breakfast on her head so that no one would suspect that she was a woman.

Then she woke up.

Tifa was beginning to wonder about the food in this place.

* * *

It was 9 a.m. when she finally dragged herself out of bed. Getting up was an agonizing process of shuffle, wince, grab brush, shuffle, groan, find socks. She hobbled stiffly about the room for a while, brushed her teeth, scrubbed her face, and eventually sat back down on her bunk to examine the three lacerations in her body armor acquired from the night before.

After closer inspection she also found two bullets imbedded in the shell. She sighed, allowing the article of clothing to fall limply in her lap, and ran her hands through her hair. It was not going to be easy to get it repaired.

Suddenly it all felt so daunting. She hadn't the foggiest idea what she should do.

Tifa released a gush of air, stirring a loose bang that flitted down the side of her face. It was too late to turn back now. So she pulled on her suit and uniform, and prepared to face another day in her new life of subterfuge.

The first thing she did that morning was to check her locker and retrieve her things. Her new uniform looked almost exactly like the old one. It was of a darker shade of blue and the material was softer – at least it might not chafe so much. The new helmet was silver with blue trim. There was her phone too, which she checked out of curiosity.

Her eyes widened fraction. Messages were flooding her inbox, most of them news blurbs or company announcements. She hadn't realized that she would be so integrated into the system, but then their technology never ceased to amaze her.

There was one, however, that caught her attention. It was an alert of some kind and it was blinking. She bit her lip and scrolled down to select it.

**Message received: **yesterday, 2:36 p.m. _from Professor Lowell_

_Someone's been swiping materia from the synthesis room after hours. What the hell? I mean, seriously, what the hell? It's not free, goddamn it! I'm giving the culprit two days to fess up before I hunt them down and lock them in one of Hojo's test tubes._

Her brow darted upwards. And she had always thought professors to be quiet and reserved. Apparently not…

Tifa had a vague recollection of having passed their lab in her travels, but hadn't been inside it. Regardless, it didn't involve her. She closed the phone and reached back into the locker for the tall, slender black case.

The case contained a blued stainless steel sniper rifle with a synthetic black stock. Her lips widened in a smile. _That _hadn't been on the list.

She changed quickly into her new clothes and slipped out before anyone was the wiser. No sooner had she begun ascending the stairs to take a jaunt around the building did the sound of footsteps alert her to someone descending from above. Feeling a momentary flight of panic, Tifa stood dumbly in place as a shadow emerged from around the corner and took shape.

Sephiroth took several steps before he noticed her, at which point he stopped. He might not have done so had she not been noticeably rooted in the middle of the stairs, staring up at him. They exchanged a long, perplexing look. His eyes narrowed, her lips thinned in a rigid line. He raised an eyebrow, she groaned in exasperation.

They then resumed their respective courses as if nothing had happened.

_Something _had definitely happened, but Tifa couldn't quite put a finger on what.

Thereon the day passed by uneventfully. No impromptu interrogations from Angeal, in fact she never saw him at all – the same for Chaka. No more surprise meetings with Sephiroth in deserted hallways. She perused several of the floors in the building, most of which held nothing of interest, and listened in on a conversation or two, but gleaned nothing of real value.

All in all it was not the most productive day.

And it was boring. Mind-numbingly boring.

She stretched out on her bunk and stared up at the ceiling. It was already 10 p.m., but she didn't feel like sleeping. Restlessness soon drew her from the confines of her room.

There was an eerie quietness in the halls during the late hours. She was inclined to step quietly so as not to draw attention to herself as every little scuff of her boots seemed to resonate in her ears like a gong. It was not curfew yet, so why she should worry she didn't know.

But Tifa always worried because that was the nature of her situation; walking on eggshells. Or maybe walking the high wire above a pit full of rabid man-eating squirrels was a more accurate analogy. It was certainly more vivid.

She stopped by the lockers on her way out to pick up her rifle, which she'd left there for safe keeping. Then she took the elevator up to the 65th floor. The lights were dim when she emerged into the lounge. No one was about and even the auto-bot cleaners had been shut down. It was almost…peaceful.

Tifa lingered around for a minute or two before heading on into the Training Room. At first she didn't notice anything, but when she went to the control panel to punch in the settings, her eyes drifted invariably to the observation window. She stopped abruptly.

Someone was already in there.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Hmmm, yes, we have a cliff hanger. I apologize for the limited interactions between characters in this chapter, but I thought it was necessary to describe the test. The next chapter is going to be a real doozy.

Well anyway, I want it to be known that I'm not arbitrarily giving Tifa mad sniper skillz - this will become relevant later in the story. Regardless, it wouldn't be practical for military trainees not to be educated in the use of firearms so she would have acquired some knowledge in getting this far anyway. Everyone has their limitations physically, that includes Sephiroth.

Feedback is most helpful in getting my butt in gear to write.

Thanks for reading and happy holidays!


	4. Chapter 4

_The Warrior_

_By Faerlyte_

_

* * *

**Chapter 4**_

She almost left right then, but something held her back. Her eyes cast about the observation room once. It was empty and silent, no hints as to who might be in the simulator. Then she took a step towards the training room, another step, and she reached for the button to open the door.

Her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she debated for all of three seconds, before giving it a firm push. The door slid open into a barren wasteland of rock and cliff bathed in moonlight. Somewhere from within came the metallic ring of a sword.

Tifa stepped out onto a stone path and heard the door shut softly behind her. She shivered as a light breeze shuffled her uniform. The sounds of battle were raging from up ahead, so she followed it.

It never occurred to her to check the settings of the simulator before plunging into an unknown landscape. Curiosity had gotten the better of her judgment. There was no telling what sort of monsters dwelt here or what level they were set for.

She considered turning back, but she caught a glimpse of a dark silhouette in the shape of a man against the full moon. The narrow blade of the masamune swept behind him as he lowered his head and darted across the sky out of sight. Her lips parted with a sharp intake of air.

He was flying.

At once her heart beat quickened. She couldn't fathom the sensation of awe that compelled her to take a closer look. It was unlike anything she'd ever seen or felt before; she had to see.

Her boots crunched against the ground as she climbed the winding road at a trot. When she mounted the top of it, she found herself on a wide lookout point above the battle ground on which Sephiroth fought. She stepped up to the edge and peered cautiously over the lip of rock down into the canyon below.

Tifa's throat convulsed and she sucked in her breath.

The ground below was strewn with the bloodied and disemboweled bodies of monsters numbering in the hundreds. They formed a path of carnage, growing gradually in size and strength as it curled and twisted along the canyon bottom. It was a grisly sight, ripe with the stench of death, which finally hit her full in the face.

She gagged on the rancid air, and took a step back.

A loud, resonating cry shook the air from above and Tifa whirled around. Her eyes scanned the skies frantically. Then they stopped, widening in alarm; it was a dragon, locked in heated battle with the silver haired General.

Her shoulders uncoiled slowly – she was out of danger, at least for now.

Sephiroth on the other hand, she was not so certain of.

It was an enormous dragon, unlike any she'd ever seen. Not that she'd seen all that many, but this one so dwarfed Sephiroth in size that it could seemingly swallow him whole without effort. Its silver scales glistened ghostly in the light of the moon as it circled its prey, flexing its gleaming talons.

As she watched, transfixed by the sheer nerve of the man to engage a foe of such caliber, Tifa could make out tiny patterns of red sprawling across Sephiroth's face. There was a delay between her puzzlement and the sudden realization that what she saw was blood. Even his hair had taken on a shade of pink.

Something squirmed inside her uncomfortably. Was that his blood, or something else's? It didn't seem to slow him down any either way.

He moved through the air with enviable grace, as if flying were second nature. His glinting sword carved the night with a deadly song. His hair, which should have been an impediment, followed his every fluid motion and only accentuated his strength. Had it not been drenched in blood, it might have been beautiful.

Tifa looked on pensively, the unsettling feeling in her stomach worsening. Her fingers flexed at her sides, itching to help, but afraid of what she would face. Something wasn't right in all this.

The dragon flew above in a wide ark, then shifted course and came barreling back down in a controlled, twisting dive. Sephiroth met it head on, parrying the dragon's claws as they passed, and thrusting back with the masamune. It plunged into the dragon's chest.

Sephiroth flipped over the hilt and planted his feet against the dragon's belly. Then he drew the blade down the length of its body, spilling forth a belch of steam from the body cavity and a stream of blood and guts.

The agonized screech of the dragon curdled Tifa's blood as it writhed and clawed viciously at its gaping stomach.

She strangled an exclamation at the base of her throat as the dragon's flailing talons struck its foe and the two descended upon the canyon bottom. The impact was tremendous, the ground shuddering with an explosion of rock and dust. Then all was deathly quiet.

Tifa stared unmoving in disbelief at the remains. She was not expecting to see Sephiroth walk away from it, and when he emerged from the plume of settling dust, she had to look twice to believe it. He was walking towards the rocky outcrop she stood on, or, perhaps staggering was a better term.

Behind him a massive form lay motionless.

The tip of the masamune made an erratic trail through the dirt as it dragged on the ground from where it hung limply in his right hand. His motions were sluggish, his back slightly bent, as if bearing a great weight on his shoulders. As he came closer, Tifa could hear a rasping noise as he breathed.

She could see him better now and there was no longer a question of whose blood he wore. Bewilderment creased Tifa's forehead. What was he doing? Trying to kill himself?

All of a sudden she felt the weight of the sniper rifle acutely hanging from her shoulder. She resisted the urge to reach for it as she watched the man below. He sank to his knees and she could see his body shake.

If it was death he wanted, she thought, she could give it to him. A single bullet right now would be all it would take, and yet…despite all the hate she felt, the anger…the mere thought of giving him that luxury made her seethe. That he _wanted _death was an obvious indication that he should have to live.

A roar thundered from below off to the left and Tifa glanced to the left in trepidation. There was more?

Striding powerfully across the ground, its great horned head swaggering from side to side, was a great behemoth. Its nostrils flared and steam furled into the air. Muscles rippled in his hind quarters as a massive tail swung languidly behind it, thick and powerful.

Sephiroth lurched to his feet and raised his sword, his arm trembling with the simple exertion of holding it up. A row of gaping wounds bled from his right shoulder where the dragon's talons had ripped his flesh. He held his ground with eyes of blazing stone, as if he could not lose – as if he dared anything to defeat him.

Tifa had no idea how long he had been fighting to reach this state, but it had to have been for hours. That he remained steadfast in the pursuit of…whatever it was he thought to accomplish by fighting himself into oblivion, both amazed and appalled her. How long had this been going on?

Or was this to be the first as well as the last?

The behemoth charged. Sephiroth merely waited. They engaged in a flurry of talons, teeth, and steel. She was surprised at how fast he could still move in his condition, but it was noticeably slower than before. Every time they engaged, he came away wearing more of his own blood than that of the beast. The behemoth was not unscathed by any means, but he was clearly winning the confrontation.

Tifa felt sick. Her eyes burned as unshed tears sprang at the corners. She did _not _want to watch this.

Her feet moved of their own accord, propelling her forward over the edge of the high rise. It was a long jump to make down to the ground below, but that's why SOLDIERs were mako treated. She landed with a grunt, the force sending a jolt up her knees and spine that throbbed to the very roots of her teeth.

The Behemoth whirled on her. Tifa raised her fists and spread her feet, and blinked in astonishment as the fiend stiffened and sagged to the ground with a gurgle.

She blinked again. Sephiroth stood before her in blood-drenched glory, for all the world like this was perfectly normal, his hand clenching the hilt of the masamune where it now protruded from the beast's side. In one swift, fluid motion he jerked the sword free and gave her look of absolute condescension.

"What are you doing here?" His voice thrummed cold fury in her ears.

Tifa watched in morbid fascination a stream of blood travel down the length of his blade, the words failing to compute. Drip, drip…it spattered onto the ground at his feet, mesmerizing. She could smell that copper tinge, could taste it on the tip of her tongue like she had five years ago. None of the blood had been his then.

Was she forever fixed in that place in time where it all had gone wrong? Were they all?

Well, he hadn't tried to kill her yet.

She lifted her head slowly to look at the man, the unspoken question hiding behind the smoke screened visor. Their surroundings had reverted back to the simulator room and it was darker now than it had been in the artificial landscape. For that reason Sephiroth's eyes glowed ethereally bright as he examined her with an air of detachment.

It might have frightened her had his breathing not been so ragged, his hair not near so matted from dried blood, and his shoulders not so slumped. The truth in point was that he looked terrible.

"Are you…" She faltered, grimacing at what she honestly couldn't believe was about to come out of her mouth, "Are you ok, sir?"

It was almost comical to see his blood smeared brow arch in what otherwise might've been an elegant display of dubiety. He casually wiped his cheek with the back of his glove and seemed to gaze down at the residue with bored interest. His eyes flickered astutely back to her,

"I was not trying to die, if that is your concern." He supplied evenly.

"N-no…" Tifa stammered, her face flushed, because that's precisely what she had been thinking. She wasn't entirely convinced otherwise either, but that he somehow knew what had been running through her mind bothered her.

She stole a longing glance at the door.

"You are free to go." He said and, using the hem of his coat, wiped his sword clean.

Tifa actually hesitated, her eyes lingering on the myriad of wounds along his body. The bleeding had stopped and she could see the skin beginning to knit itself back together in places. His intestinal fortitude had to be through the roof for it to react so quickly to injury.

All SOLDIERs had it to a certain extent, but this…this was insane!

She took a step, slowly, towards the door. He obviously didn't need her help and she didn't really want to give it anyway. "Yes sir." She mumbled and did all but run from the Training Room.

It wasn't until she had retreated within the safe confines of her room that her heart rate returned to something relatively normal. Her hands were still shaking, but she was safe. She rested her head back as her body braced against the door, and closed her eyes.

_I can't do this, _she thought.

* * *

It was 5 o'clock sharp and in the adjoining room outside the cafeteria a silver helmet peeked around the corner. Tifa's heart gave a leap of joy; the doors were unguarded. She made a quick cursory check of all the converging hallways before starting her advance.

She stopped in front of the doors and listened for a minute. No sounds came from within.

Her hand reached over to hover above the control panel before giving it a decisive press. The doors swished open into a deserted room fresh with the warm smells of hot cooking. Her eyes traveled to the breakfast bar laden with sticky buns, fresh fruit, pancakes, sausage and eggs made every way imaginable.

_Naturally…_

A cadence of footsteps hailed from somewhere behind her. Tifa fired an anxious look over her shoulder, saw no one, and made a mad dash into the cafeteria. She skidded up to the breakfast bar, snatched up an apple and a piece of sausage (the latter she wolfed down), and sprinted back for the doors.

They opened a fraction of a second before Tifa pushed the button and she froze. Crisscrossing leather straps disappearing beneath the collar of a black leather trench coat stared back at her from mere inches away. A startled yelp emerged from the back of her throat and she made a dive to the side.

She was still running when she rounded the corner, slammed into a solid body, and went sprawling to the floor. The unsuspecting victim beneath her went 'oof' as she landed on top of him in a tangle of arms and legs. In the midst of the chaos that ensued, her visor flipped up, which in turn caused her eyes to widen considerably down at the man, who was none other than Angeal, now staring up at her in dazed confusion.

Tifa scrambled off him and slammed the visor down so hard she gave herself a headache. "Oh my god, I'm sorry, sir!" She was babbling and threw in a salute for good measure. Then she was launching down the hall like a madwoman, a vapor trail in her wake.

* * *

That morning, Angeal would spend the majority of his breakfast haranguing Sephiroth about the identity of the SOLDIER that had clothes-lined him in the hall. All records of SOLDIER recruits came with a photograph for purposes of identification, and, as Angeal adamantly swore, he knew damn well none of them had looked like _that._ Therefore it had to be another Shin-Ra conspiracy.

"He looked like a woman." Angeal stated, his brow furrowing in further consternation as he continued that thought, "Hell, he _sounded _like a woman."

Sephiroth bit idly into his sandwich as he read the morning newspaper, "Is that so?" He murmured, "Who is he?"

"How the hell should I know?" His friend said, exasperated, "There are a thousand SOLDIERs frequenting headquarters. I can't be expected to recognize them all on sight."

The General laid down his newspaper. "He was wearing a 2nd class uniform." He pointed out patiently. "That should narrow your search, if it's so important to you."

Angeal frowned deeply at Sephiroth's casual dismissal, "It is our duty to uphold the integrity of SOLDIER. Of course it is important."

"And we are to do that by tracking down some wretched boy with regrettably bad genes?" Sephiroth inquired, leveling his friend with an expectant look.

The other man hesitated, "Perhaps you're right." He conceded, "But there's something odd about it."

Sephiroth stood up from the table and murmured almost beyond ear shot of his companion, "Does it even matter anymore?"

* * *

Meanwhile, Tifa was catching her breath in what appeared to be a broom closet, her back plastered to the wall and sweat rolling off her in rivulets. Her phone promptly started ringing, eliciting a jump, and she jerked a hand into her back pocket. She eyed the offending piece of technology with some trepidation as she flipped it open.

It was Chaka. She sighed in relief.

"Hello?" Her voice sounded shaky.

"Hey, Small Fry," He said. "What's goin' on?"

Tifa paused dumbly. She couldn't very well say she was hiding in a closet from her superior officer after having been caught red handed filching an apple from the officer's court. "Nothing." She bit her lip.

"Nothing?" He repeated deadpan, "I heard you singlehandedly beat a malboro the other night – that doesn't qualify as 'nothing' in my book."

Tifa turned blank, "Oh. That."

"Yes, _that. _Congrats on qualifying for 2nd class. You talk to Angeal this morning?"

"Uh…no, no I haven't." She lied and shut her eyes in a wince. "Why?"

"We're meeting him in the Training Room today," He explained, "…after breakfast. He should've posted a message in your log under assignments."

"Oh, alright. I'll check." Tifa murmured.

"You comin' to breakfast? I can give you the unofficial briefing there if you want." Chaka offered.

She opened her mouth to decline when a thought struck her. It might be better if she at least put on the pretense of having not eaten breakfast yet, that way they might not suspect her. Or at least they'd have less reason to.

"Yeah, I'll be there." She answered after a moment. Her apple had been lost during her escape this morning anyway.

"Alright!" He boomed enthusiastically, "Later Fry."

It was a minute or two before Tifa thought to wonder at what Chaka could be briefing her about. He obviously knew more than she did. It sounded like they were going to be spending some time together.

That wasn't so bad, she decided. She preferred him over someone else, say, Angeal himself, or god forbid, Sephiroth. She thanked her lucky stars that the General was as conceited as he was – he obviously didn't have time or patience to train students.

Breakfast was tumultuous and lively. The cafeteria was packed with 3rd and 2nd class, as she had arrived late, but there was no sign of Chaka. The moment she stepped into the room, the atmosphere changed.

The noise level diminished, several dozen heads glanced up to follow her, and hushed murmurings passed down the length of the tables. All traces of previous anonymity were gone. Word had gotten around. She didn't know _how _it had gotten around, and so quickly at that, but it had.

Did she really stand out that much?

Her eyes remained steadfast on the floor in front of her and she burrowed behind the collar of her uniform. Eventually the focus of the room shifted away, though there was a tingling on the surface, as if they were just waiting to cast another glance.

She grabbed a tray and started ladling it with scrambled eggs, more out of a need to distract herself than anything else.

"Hey you," A voice commanded from behind her.

Tifa stiffened involuntarily. Was he talking to her? No one ever talked to her.

"Hey!" With an edge of anger this time, and someone grabbed her bicep, wrenching her around. Her tray clattered to the floor, spilling its contents. "I'm talking to you."

He was thick and moderately tall, but no more than another faceless SOLDIER 3rd class. She gritted her teeth, taking a deep breath, and yanked her arm free. There were two others with him standing guard on either side, what little she could see of their faces expressionless.

When no one said anything, Tifa dropped to the floor with an inward sigh and proceeded to clean up the mess.

"That's right." The leader barked suddenly. "On your knees, fag. Folks around here don't care for some homo greenhorn showin' off – we're SOLDIER infantry, you fight with the team or you're out the door."

A crowd was gathering, or at least, their attention was gathered. They'd become eerily silent. Not surprisingly, none of them seemed apt to leap to her rescue.

Tifa concentrated on maintaining calm. What was wrong with these people? It was a required test! What else was she supposed to do? But that was the nature of their kind – no logical reasoning whatsoever.

She finished gathering the spilt food in her tray and stood up without a word. She did not so much as look at the three of them, didn't care what they wanted or had to say.

The leader was not finished however, for he quickly intercepted her path, bearing down on her with every last inch of his height, "Watcha gonna do when you haven't got a rifle to save your ass, eh? I'm mighty curious to find out – teach you a thing or two about real men."

"That's a good one coming from you, Dev." A familiar voice remarked wryly, approaching from the right.

Tifa glanced up to see Chaka sauntering towards them with an air of boredom. He stopped in front of the offending party and made an exaggerated show of looking down his nose at the other man, for he was easily taller.

"Last time I checked, you were still failing to advance beyond rudimentary level assault rifle mastery. Something to do with – now how did that go?" Chaka paused for effect, tapping his jaw in a show of deep thought, "I believe it was, _'SOLDIER is a consummate pansy." _

Dev lurched forward, teeth bared and splotches of red showing at the corners of his mouth. His hands balled into fist, ready to strike, but it never came. Chaka's eyes were sharp as a knife.

"You're nothin' but a two-bit slacker." Dev spat. "Aint' worth my time."

Chaka inclined his head with a gracious smile, "By all means, Dev." He returned cordially, "If that helps you sleep at night."

The trio departed muttering amongst themselves as they passed through the cafeteria doors. Tifa watched them go warily. Somehow, she got the feeling that wasn't the last confrontation they would have.

"Don't mind them," Chaka said when they had gone. "Every military has their low-lifes."

Tifa resisted the urge to scowl as she threw the contents of her tray away, "You didn't have to do that." She retrieved an apple from the fruit basket.

He grinned broadly, "What? And miss a perfect opportunity to remind dickhead of his insignificance? Not on your life." Chaka nodded his head at the door, "If you're ready, we can split this joint."

"Aren't you getting something to eat?" She asked, curious.

"Nah," He waved her off and cracked a devious smile, "I get mine straight from the horse's mouth."

Tifa trailed after him as she attempted to decipher his meaning. "Like…as in, from the kitchens?" She ventured.

Chaka put a finger to his lips as they left the cafeteria. He made a cursory check of all the converging hallways, verified the cost was clear, and murmured close to her ear. "I have a contact on the inside." His brow wriggled suggestively.

At first she didn't understand, but her inborn feminine instincts clicked in a fraction of a second later and it became clear. "Oh!" And she grinned slyly, "You mean a girl, don't you."

He shifted somewhat uncomfortably, "Ahh…She's just a friend, you know." He insisted, "But yeah, I get a quick snack every morning at 5."

"You're up that early?" The words came out before she realized what she was saying.

Chaka gave her a sidelong look, "Hey now," He said, "Just because I won't accept a 1st class promotion doesn't mean I don't take what I do seriously."

Tifa's mouth fell open accordingly, "But then…you've already been offered 1st class?"

"Shit, yeah." He grumbled, "Angeal's been trying for years, but I keep telling him no. You'd think he'd get the message."

Her lips pursed in a frown, "But Chaka," She regarded him through her visor, "that's a dream to young men everywhere – a dream that many of them will never achieve despite their best efforts. Are you sure you want to give up a privilege like that so easily?"

Chaka scowled deeply and muttered, "I wouldn't call it a privilege."

Anger flickered in his eyes, not at her, but something else. It might have been a hint of rebellion. He wouldn't feel comfortable confiding his true feelings for the company, not knowing her loyalties, but she thought she could guess at what he felt and she couldn't blame him for that.

"I know…I mean, I understand, I think." Tifa babbled stupidly, gave herself a mental kick, and started over. "You could look at it this way – If you were to accept, you would have a greater impact on the company as well as those around you, and you could use that influence to do good in the world, whereas if someone else takes it…they might not."

Chaka's head twisted sharply at her, his eyes narrowing a fraction. He didn't say anything for a long time and eventually averted his attention back to wherever they were going. It wasn't until they'd entered the elevator and had it to themselves that he finally spoke.

"Why are you here, Fry?" He asked pointedly.

Tifa felt her lips go dry and her face pale. She had never quite come up with a suitable answer to that question. The usual hero-worshipping really didn't quite fit her projected persona and her competitive drive was relatively mild compared to others.

But buried in the mire of reasoning that had gotten her this far was one very real truth.

"I have nothing else left." She replied and gazed moodily at the floor.

Chaka studied her for a moment before lowering his gaze as well. Neither of them spoke until they had reached the Training Room. Angeal was not there yet, but it was still early so Chaka wandered over to the computer to punch in a few settings.

Tifa was already inside the simulator and suddenly found herself standing on the Junon canon several hundreds of feet above the ocean. The air smelled of salt and seaweed as overhead a flock of gulls flew by, squawking noisily. She wished she could pull off her helm and savor the feel of wind in her face, but she couldn't.

Chaka walked up beside her and spread his arms, stretching with a groan of satisfaction, "Pretty amazing this thing, huh?" He said and started along the cannon out towards the end of the barrel.

Tifa followed behind, her gaze lifting to the horizon in the distance. She marveled at what technology was capable of. It was all so detailed in its realism.

When they came to the end of the barrel, Chaka leaned over and gazed down at the water. All it would take was a particularly strong breeze to send him tumbling off. Tifa stayed several paces back from the edge, not wanting to take her chances.

Chaka glanced over his shoulder at her, "Dare you to jump it."

Her jaw dropped, "You're not serious are you?" She asked.

He laughed and waved his had dismissively, "Nah, I just wanted to see if you would. Haven't got to see anyone do it yet, so I don't rightly know what would happen if someone actually jumped. I imagine you'd get wet – the simulator can do just about anything."

Tifa was not known for her swimming prowess, though she was not about to admit to it. Her eyes skimmed the distance below and she took an involuntary step back towards the center of the canon before she got dizzy. That was a long way down…

"You know," Chaka walked back towards her, "you can simulate people with this thing too."

Her heart stopped and her mouth went dry. She clenched her teeth hard, _no, don't even think it._

"They have to be in the Shin-Ra database though." He continued. "You could fight a simulated Sephiroth if you wanted."

Great, that's just what she needed. One Sephiroth was more than enough without having a simulated one running around too. Her attention drifted back to the water below curiously, "Why don't you jump?"

"Me?" Chaka shrugged, "I'm not that crazy. I just want to see what would happen if someone else did – they'd have to have some serious gonads."

Well that was something that Tifa could firmly testify to having absolutely none of. She was completely safe.

From seemingly nowhere Chaka had produced a bat, followed by a pail full of baseballs. He reached into it and grabbed one. Then he tossed it to her.

Tifa caught it clumsily, glancing up in confusion as Chaka gave the bat an experimental swing. She felt a nervous trickle down her back as she understood what he intended for her to do. Fortunately, she had a solid grounding in proper throwing technique from engaging in extensive snowball fights at a young age.

She planted her feet, gripped the ball firmly in her hand, and winded back to throw. It wasn't all that fast a throw – she didn't want to risk accuracy for speed. It had been a while after all.

The bat connected with a crack and the ball went sailing over Tifa's ducking head out into the ocean. She twisted around to follow its trajectory as it continued for some distance before it began a rapid descent into the sea. It was so far below that the splash was swallowed up in the waves.

When she turned back around, Chaka was beside her and holding the bat out. "Your turn." He said.

Tifa stared at the narrow piece of stylized wood in abject horror. She had never swung a bat before in her life – there hadn't been one in their town. If she tried to now she would embarrass herself so deeply that he probably would never speak to her again.

Men knew how to swing bats. They just _did _it. She had no idea how to swing a bat. How was she supposed to explain that she'd never learned how?

Her hand reached out to numbly take the object from him. She walked slowly to where Chaka had been standing and very reluctantly turned around. Then she looked at him, her hands hesitantly gripping the handle, and took a stab at holding it upright.

Chaka stared at her for all of two seconds before he shook his head, his lips framing a scowl, and walked up to her. "Man, who the hell taught you to hold a bat like that?" He promptly took it from her and demonstrated the proper grip. Then he handed it back.

Tifa attempted to emulate what he had just shown and looked up questioningly. He gave a nod of approval and waltzed back over to the ball bucket. Then he picked one out, gave it a toss, and positioned himself to throw.

She had no idea what on earth she was doing. Her eyes widened as the ball all of a sudden came screaming towards her. She knew before she'd forced her arms to move that she was going to be well behind the throw. Knowing this, she tried to swing too fast and too hard, and ended up pirouetting in a most undignified fashion.

Chaka very nearly got to see someone fall from the cannon into the ocean. The devil himself was laughing himself into a frenzy over there now that she had regained her footing and was staring dejectedly back at him.

Her cheeks flushed, "I've never swung a bat before!" She protested.

He managed to stifle the rest of his amusement before sauntering back over and schooling a more serious expression, if somewhat forced, "That much is apparent." He said and took the bat, "Alright, watch carefully."

She did.

"Hold it like this," Chaka indicated, the bat swiveling in a tight, controlled circle behind his head. "And swing from the waist. Plant your back foot first, and drive with your left – that's where your power comes from. How you stand is up to you, though I like to spread my feet. Whatever is most comfortable." He continued, "But always a controlled swing."

Tifa nodded, understanding. He did a couple more swings before handing the bat back to her. "Give it a try."

She spread her feet and raised her arms so that the hand highest on the bat was about level with her chin. Then she gave the bat a sharp waggle from side to side, testing its weight and adjusting her grip accordingly. Her back foot planted and she swung. It felt awkward and her first attempt still left Chaka frowning.

"What did I do wrong?" She asked meagerly.

"You're still swinging from the elbows." He said. "Let your upper body move from the waist and relax those wrists a little."

She nodded and tried again. It felt better that time. At least she was no longer pirouetting off the canon.

"Much better." Chaka told her. "Let's try throwing a ball into the mix."

"Okay." Tifa said and took a deep, calming breath.

"Remember," He began firmly, "keep your eye on the ball – that's the most important thing."

Her brow settled determinedly and her fingers tightened around the bat. She watched him wind up, saw the ball release from his hand, picked up her lead foot and stepped into the swing. Her eyes never left the rapidly spinning white leather. The impact of the ball as she connected with the bat rattled her teeth and made her hands tingle.

Then it was soaring out across the water and falling to the sea.

She smiled ecstatically and did a little victory hop, "I did it!"

"Alright!" Chaka beamed back at her and raised his hand, palm out for a high five. "You're a natural."

They continued to take turns hitting, but the bucket never seemed to empty. Tifa was beginning to suspect that it never would empty in this place and that it simply replenished itself. She had no idea how long they'd been going at it, but her arms were both sore and tired.

The scene started to melt away as Chaka was swinging at a poorly thrown pitch. He caught it with the tip of the bat and it went sailing off in an odd direction. It was right on course to plug Angeal in the nose when the ball vanished harmlessly into the simulator.

Chaka turned a fascinating shade of purple, "Uh, sorry sir." He said and idly scratched the back of his neck.

Angeal smirked dryly, but said nothing.

Tifa lowered her gaze demurely. She had forgotten to check her log and here they were goofing off in the simulator. She was really going to have to get a handle on things if she wanted to stick around for any length of time

"So much for my giving a briefing." Chaka whispered apologetically as their superior officer approached. "It doesn't really matter."

"Don't worry about it." She told him and gave Angeal a salute.

"Good morning," He greeted them, and his expression had turned somewhat sour. He was giving her an odd look, which she adamantly refused to let rattle her, lest he suspect her from this morning.

Unbeknownst to Tifa, it was that very incident that was the source of his irritation right now, though he did not suspect her. Not only had it just been plain weird, but the little runt had run off before he could be properly chastised. To add insult to injury, Sephiroth had promptly disappeared to Gods knew where.

But Angeal was doing his best. He cleared his throat, arms clasped neatly behind his back as he addressed to two SOLDIERs in front of him. His eyes fell on Chaka first, "I realize that what I am proposing is somewhat unconventional."

Tifa wanted to ask what he was proposing, but thought better of it. Best not to let him think she was already practicing negligence if she could help it. She really had meant to check.

"But," He continued, "—as you well know, Chaka, there is no one else with as solid of background training in Martial Arts as you, or as much innate skill."

There was a long pause.

"According to military procedure, only a 1st Class can take on students for specific training." Angeal regarded Chaka steadily. "There is no questioning your qualifications, so I will choose in this case, to disregard the law. Are you willing to take on a student in Eric here, as a 2nd class?"

"I'm game." Chaka consented.

Angeal shifted around to address her then, "And are you, Eric, ready to commit to comprehensive training to the effect of a 1st Class rank?"

Tifa stared at him wide-eyed for a few seconds before bowing her head towards the floor to examine the steel grating. She glanced at Chaka, but he merely shrugged. Her eyes drifted cautiously back to Angeal and she bit her lip.

Then she was speaking, her tongue taking control of the situation before her brain could react, "I guess so, but…" she trailed off indecisively.

"Yes?" Angeal prompted.

"Fry." Tifa stated firmly then. "Please, call me Fry."

Chaka put on a goofy grin and gave her thumbs up.

Angeal gave her the barest of raised eyebrows, before nodding, "Alright then. Fry it is." He turned back to Chaka, "I'll leave the scheduling up to you. Just bring me an outline when you're finished and I'll upload it onto the data base."

"Sure thing." Chaka replied.

"You're both still subject to the morning workout of course, which, if I'm not mistaken," Angeal checked his phone and snapped it shut, "begins in less than five minutes."

Chaka and Tifa took one glance at one another, lasting all of a second, and were sprinting for the door. Behind them, Angeal's fading voice drawled, "You're dismissed."

* * *

**Author's Note: **This chapter...is enormous. I was having trouble finding a stopping point. Oh well, that should make you guys happy, right?


	5. Chapter 5

**The Warrior**

_Chapter 5_

* * *

Tifa and Chaka rounded the corner, and witnessed the horror of _both _sets of elevator doors as they began to close.

"Wait!" Resonated down the hall with terrified urgency as the two of them sprinted for all their worth. Then they were skidding across the slick tile flooring and slamming bodily into the now closed doors with two muffled thumps. They proceeded to pound futilely against them before sagging their shoulders in defeat.

"Son of a bitch." Chaka groused and leaned back, cradling his head. "We're in for it now."

"What do you mean?" Tifa asked worriedly.

He planted his hands against the wall and proceeded to bang his head against it. "Man, someone's got to be overseeing the morning workout, and Angeal definitely isn't down there right now – that leaves only one other option."

The unspoken name hung heavily in the air between them. Sephiroth…

_Son of a bitch…_and Tifa wasn't prone to harsh swearing, which is perhaps why she refrained from voicing those sentiments out loud.

"But I thought you said Sephiroth wasn't such a bad guy?" She intoned.

Chaka grimaced, "That's the thing though, he's got a way of making you feel like you deserve it when you're punished – I can't explain, you'll see."

One set of doors finally slid open and they ran inside, despite knowing that their efforts were in vain. It had taken the whole of their allotted five minutes just for it to get back. Needless to say the mood was decidedly grim on the trip down.

But they ran all the way to the gymnasium anyway and burst into the room, dragging far more attention to themselves than Tifa would've liked. As Chaka had surmised, Sephiroth was at the head of the procession, and to Tifa's utter astonishment and consternation, naked from the waist up. She halted so hard in her tracks it was a wonder she hadn't pulled something, or at least torn a hole in the matting.

On second thought, she _had _torn a hole in it. _Oh I so did not do that…_

Everyone stared at her, though they were the least of her worries. He was staring too. She flushed red. Chaka grabbed her by the arm and shook her loose so that they could take their place among the group and maybe no one noticed the embarrassing damage she'd done to the mat.

Sephiroth gave an apathetic nod to the both of them, "Meet me afterwards." He said, and resumed the exercise they had been performing before the interruption.

It proved to be the longest three hours of her life, not least of which because she was having trouble _not _examining the remarkable musculature of the man up front. She was both embarrassed and ashamed, and toiling hopelessly with the pushups that still brutalized her. To make matters worse, he was making the rounds through the room when he came to her in the middle of her worst work out.

…At which point she did her standardized collapse in exhaustion. She thought for the briefest of milliseconds, of attempting to bury her face in her hands, but knowing that it was him and the thought of his condescension infuriated her so, she forced herself up instead. He never said a word, and she resumed the grueling task before he could find reason to, even though she supposed he already had reason enough to make an example of her in front of the entire army.

He simply chose not to.

Tifa felt like a feather adrift on the wind with no control whatsoever of the proceedings. An irrational fear was gradually building, suffocating her brain as the hours passed, until she had worked herself into a full blown panic. She wasn't going to live to see the light of tomorrow, not that she'd seen much light since she came here, but she would really like to see it again.

If by some miracle she did survive, she really needed to get out of this building for a breath of fresh air.

At the end of three hours she was still miraculously alive. It was the ensuing two that threatened to put her into an early grave. She and Chaka had waited behind as the other SOLDIERs filed out, and Sephiroth had for all appearances ignored them until the gym was entirely empty.

Then he approached them, an anonymous file in hand, and gave them each a stern glance, "Three minutes late." He declared not unkindly, "I will not ask why – it doesn't matter. You know better than to cut it that close."

Tifa found herself shuffling her feet and skulking further behind her collar. Did he have to say it that way? He sounded like a disappointed parent. She was beginning to understand what Chaka meant.

"Sorry, sir." Chaka inclined his head, shamefaced.

Sephiroth looked at Tifa with a vague sort of curiosity. "Have you nothing to say?"

"I…" She fumbled for a reply that wasn't immediately forthcoming and kept her eyes carefully averted. He was still shirtless and it was rather distracting. "I apologize, sir, for my tardiness."

"Better to be on time." He suggested calmly. "Therefore, I shall bestow upon the both of you the dubious honor of taking these," He indicated the files in his hand, "To Hojo's lab on the 74th floor – I have enclosed a clearance card which you can leave at his desk when finished."

Tifa stared in obvious bewilderment as she accepted the proffered file. She did not see the subtle stiffening of her companion's back, nor did she notice the distinct paling of his otherwise dark complexion. After all, this wasn't so bad as punishments went. She had been expecting another hour of grueling workouts.

"And," But Sephiroth had not finished, "when you've completed that, assuming you escape with your sanity intact, you can spend the rest of the day cleaning my office and updating schedules on the computer."

Chaka bit back a grimace.

Tifa was still trying to get her head around the fact that Sephiroth, the emotionless one, had just made a joke. There was even the slightest of smirks on his face – the first real expression she'd seen from him, and it was almost…appealing.

A jolt went up her spine that had her damn near pulling her collar up around her eyebrows. Damn it, she really wanted to kill him now. How dare he treat her decently! As if he were almost normal and certainly not the raving lunatic she knew him to be.

But the evidence wasn't there, as if it had been completely erased from all but her memory.

"You are dismissed." He announced at last.

Tifa was only too eager to remove herself from his presence. Only Chaka noticed the General's particular interest in her as they were turning to leave. His eyes lingered after her for no apparent reason of his consciousness, but something deeply rooted within himself.

Sephiroth sighed as the two SOLDIERs went out of sight, but not out of mind. He ran a hand through his hair, massaging his scalp as he did. It was all so strange to him.

Something about that SOLDIER…he hadn't told his friend, for he felt it more acutely than he was willing to admit that something was indeed out of place. Or rather, _in_ place, and yet he didn't know why. It was like a tickling in the back of his mind, a whisper, but no matter how he tried he couldn't hear it.

It was baffling. He was rarely baffled by anything, mostly because there were few things that interested him long enough to reach that point. That he was interested in this was a result of the baffling nature – he didn't _know _why, it just _was._

And he strongly suspected the boy was batting for the other team. He wasn't sure how he felt about that, except that as a straight man, it was substantially uncomfortable – especially when the aforementioned boy of questionable sexual orientation was quite clearly giving him the eye.

Sephiroth frowned at that thought, wondering darkly if somewhere therein was a subliminal message that he should be taking heed of.

* * *

Tifa thought Chaka seemed a little jumpy, and not just because he leapt a foot in the air when she said his name. He was visibly twitching as they walked down the hall. Naturally, her curiosity was piqued, along with a healthy sense of self-preservation.

If it was that bad, she wanted to know what to expect.

"I thought our punishment would be worse." She began conversationally.

Chaka gave a dry bark of laughter, "Think about it for a moment, and then try to picture something so frightening that even Sephiroth, the greatest warrior of all time, would sooner delegate the duty to someone else than risk himself in the confines of Hojo's lab."

Tifa frowned, "Or, maybe he just doesn't want to do it himself, and we conveniently presented ourselves."

"That would be why we're cleaning his desk." Chaka supplied.

"That's not so bad, is it?" She quarried brightly.

"You haven't seen his desk," was the grim response.

They went several paces before Chaka spoke again and there was no humor in his voice, "It might sound like a joke, but it's not unheard of for SOLDIERs to occasionally go in there and never come back."

Tifa felt an uncomfortable squirm in her stomach. No, it didn't surprise her entirely. She had been in the Nibelheim reactor – had seen the abominations of science encased within and had been horrified at the inhumanity.

Had it been Hojo's work? She had not made the connection before, but now that she had, the effects were sobering. Her skin crawled.

"Hey," Chaka said, concerned, "Don't worry about it, alright? Only 3rd class no-names ever disappear. He wouldn't risk swiping a high ranked SOLDIER – Angeal would have his ass on a string if he did."

"And Sephiroth?" She wondered. "What would he do?"

Chaka gazed ahead of them thoughtfully, "You know, I don't really know. I get the feeling…shit, I probably shouldn't say this but," He hesitated, "I get the feeling that Sephiroth fears Hojo a little – I know it sounds weird, but…there's something bad there, real bad."

Tifa recalled something that Sephiroth had said years ago – something that had had no significant meaning to her then. Now that she knew Hojo's name, she understood. The General had most certainly not liked the man in the least bit.

It suddenly put things into a whole different perspective – a chain of events inlaid with varying degrees of monstrosity leading up to the inevitable fall of a great hero. He had been created from a monster and by one; it only followed that he would _become_ one.

It was all so wrong.

And did no one care about the poor souls who weren't good enough to shine and inevitably never came out of the lab? Did Sephiroth send them down there?

"It's the guards that get it the worst." Chaka went on to explain. "Getting guard duty on Hojo's floor is basically a death sentence, but someone has to do it, so…I don't think Angeal or Sephiroth are even responsible for appointing guard duty there – someone else does it."

Tifa clenched her hands in righteous anger. Her voice quivered with rage when she spoke, "But how can they allow this? They are responsible for SOLDIERs." She demanded. "It's despicable."

"Oh hell, I shouldn't even be telling you this crap." He muttered off handedly. "They'll have _my _ass if they were to find out."

So this is how it was. Corruption rules, the good are cowed by the evil, and the horrors are permitted to continue. Shin-Ra was a vicious unending cycle.

Chaka didn't speak again for the remainder of their march to the gallows. They approached the elevator with a growing sense of dread and rode it in subdued silence. It only went as high as the 70th floor. Then they had to use the stairs, which were safeguarded by double security-locked doors requiring the highest level security clearance.

Tifa was somewhat surprised that Sephiroth would even trust them with such a task, but then Chaka was a veteran SOLDIER. He was obviously trusted with serious matters. She was simply there to suffer it with him.

"Well, here we are." Chaka announced as they stepped out onto the 74th floor.

It was dead quiet. No cleaning robots, no personnel. Even the air felt diminished in the place, as if it too feared to dwell here.

She found herself unconsciously walking on tip toe. They crept down the hall, their hushed breathing magnified by the intense silence. Another security-locked door awaited them at the end. There was also a hall leading off to the right.

"Cell holdings." Chaka whispered.

Tifa shivered. She didn't want to think at the implications of Hojo's lab being on the same floor.

They paused before the final barrier between them and the horrors within, imagined or otherwise. Chaka glanced her way, as if affirming that she was ready, and ran the card through. The light turned green and the door slid open with a cheerful ding.

The vast room beyond was filled with all manner of devices, from the scientific to the macabre. There were cages, storage pods large enough to contain people – though she didn't dare check if they did – and various other things that only left questions in her mind, and some that she just assumed not know.

It was also deserted.

"I guess he's not here." She murmured tensely.

Chaka's eyes roved slowly around the room, each step slow and deliberate, as if something might jump out at any moment. There was a series of board walks above them, but the lights were dark and there was no apparent movement. There was something in the middle of the room…

Tifa gasped, "What's that?"

Chaka whirled around so fast he tripped on the step he was climbing and his arms flailed out in a comical attempt to maintain balance. He teetered for a long second before regaining his balance, expelled a lung full of air, and promptly shot her a withering glance, "Don't _do _that!"

She couldn't help the shaky giggle that burbled up her throat. "Sorry."

He rolled his shoulders, muttering to himself as he stalked across the room, "Damn place gives me the heebie jeebies."

Tifa's attention had averted back to what had caused the minor mishap in the first place. There was a cylindrical prison in the center of the room containing a large canine-like animal. She'd never seen anything like it before. Its fur was fiery orange in color and it was adorned with anklets, like jewelry. She edged towards it curiously.

"Don't look, don't touch." Chaka advised. "You probably don't want to know."

Her eyes lingered on the creature as it lay there, almost pathetically. It must have felt her watching it for it lifted its head, a thick main rippling along the back of his neck, and looked at her. She felt her heart leap into her throat.

There was something distinctly intelligent in that unwavering stare. It seemed to size her up. Then, in recognizing what she was, turned away disdainfully.

Shame burned in her face. What on earth did Hojo want the poor thing for?

"Come on, Fry." Chaka hollered.

Tifa turned reluctantly. He jerked a hand for her to follow him and she complied, casting one last glance behind her. Chaka was waiting at a door in the back when she caught up.

"This leads to Hojo's personal quarters." He said.

"Oh," Tifa eyed the door as if it might sprout tentacles, "Do you think we should knock first?"

He shrugged and lifted his hand to the door, rapping three times. It didn't sprout tentacles after all.

No one answered either.

"Guess we just go inside." He mumbled.

They looked at one another. They chuckled nervously.

"So, uh, you gonna hit it?" Chaka asked.

"Oh," Tifa blinked in surprise. "Um…sure." She reached a tentative hand towards the button and pressed it slowly.

The door slid open into an extensive dimly lit area, dominated by long white tables, bubbling test tubes, miscellaneous substances stored in vials, microscopes, and other tools of science. The walls were lined with locked cupboards. At the far back there was a desk, and on it was a computer, as well as various loose papers, some of which had fallen to the floor.

Chaka entered the room first, Tifa next. She followed closely, her eyes roaming every inch of every corner and probing every shadow. This was obsession personified.

It was also, she realized suddenly, precisely what she was looking for. Something containing confidential information – she'd bet her life that Hojo was storing records of his experiments on the computer at his desk. Records that might lead her to Cloud's current whereabouts or at least…what had happened to him, if he was dead.

There had been a man in a lab coat when Cloud and Zack were retrieved from the reactor that night. She had seen him when Zangan carried her away. The dots were beginning to connect.

Her mind reverted back to the present where Chaka was now setting the folders on the desk. She stepped up beside him to examine the computer screensaver, brooding. Little green lines darted happily across the black background, which was sickeningly ironic when she thought about it. Then the screen would clear and the process repeated itself. Their direction was entirely random and never the same each time around.

"That's it." Chaka said, breaking her concentration, and set the security card on top of the folder. "Let's get the hell out of here."

Tifa made to follow, but stopped when her gaze trailed over the key card. She felt her heart rate quicken and her palms sweat as she looked from the desk to Chaka, her mind working in overdrive. He'd turned his back to her and was heading for the door.

Her hand moved automatically, against every alarm bell ringing in her brain. She grabbed for the key card, fumbling with trembling fingers, and stuffed it into her pocket. Her heart was hammering in her chest as they departed Hojo's personal quarters, hoping fervently that she hadn't made a terrible mistake.

She did not breathe easy until they were back in the elevator. None of the doors had been locked on the way out – something else that was nice to know. She would file the information away with the rest.

"Whew, glad that's over with." Chaka made a show of wiping sweat from his brow with a silly grin. "And with our sanity still intact."

Tifa forced a smile, "We scared the wits out of each other more than anything."

He laughed. It came easy now after what had felt like a near death experience. "Yeah, that was kind of embarrassing. Some SOLDIERs we make."

"Yeah." She murmured. "Now we have to clean Sephiroth's office."

"I think I'm ready for some paper work." Chaka joked.

It was all relative.

Sephiroth's office was on the 67th floor. Normally they wouldn't have had access without the key card, but as they were taking the elevator from the upper floor, they required no clearance. Unbeknownst to Tifa, that floor was also home to the Turks.

They passed no one in the halls however. When they arrived at Sephiroth's door it promptly opened. Both of them gave a start. Tifa's lips set in a scowl at the man towering above her.

_Why _did that keep happening?

Sephiroth was, at that very moment, wondering the same thing. He quickly brushed over that little incongruity however. "You appear to have survived." He commented. "Good."

Tifa swore she saw a flicker of something that she dared say was amusement.

Chaka grunted unintelligibly.

The General swept aside and bade they enter with a flourish of his hand. The door zoomed shut behind them. He retreated back to what Tifa could only assume was the rumored 'desk', though whether that was what resided beneath the wildly out of control paper farm was up for debate.

Tifa was gawking at it. The sheer magnitude of it was mind-boggling. How could a company that was so obviously tech-oriented use this much _paper?_ Her eyes traveled the full length in awe, from week old newspapers to…

_Gods above, is that a mouse?!_

Her jaw dropped. "Um," she was waving her hand towards the oblivious creature poking through the mountain of papers, the words having trouble finding their way out, "Sir?"

Sephiroth raised an inquisitive brow, "Yes?"

"There's a mouse on your desk."

"Hmmm," The General frowned slightly as he spotted the freeloading rodent and gently extracted him. "I'm at a loss as to how they get up there." He murmured pensively, stroking the mouse's back with his index finger, and released it into a hole in the corner of his office. Then he straightened, "Don't mind them."

Tifa was now ascending to a state of incredulity well beyond what she had previously assumed were inconceivable heights.

"As for this," Sephiroth indicated the table with a disinterested sweep of his arm, "I would tell you to throw it away, but my superiors would be immensely displeased if I did. You will have to organize all of it, find out where they go, and transport them accordingly."

Tifa balked, "But sir," she protested, "that will take days." _He was punishing her for last night – that must be it. _

"That it will." Sephiroth agreed and gave her a severe glance, "which is why I would suggest that, in the future, you not be late to the morning exercises."

Chaka elbowed her in the ribs before she made another ill advised outburst. He gave Sephiroth a little salute. "Sure thing, sir."

"There is one last thing," The General said and pressed a manila folder into Chaka's hands, "This is the scheduling for this week's log updates. You will have to start this first as it is due at the end of the day. Just go into the computer – there should be no security walls enabled."

"Ok." Chaka answered. "That it?"

Sephiroth nodded.

…And so ensued many days of mind-numbing tedium interspersed with really bad jokes and bouts of hysteria, the latter being in part due to the former. Oh, and mice – lots of mice. By the third day, Chaka was reduced to sabotaging Sephiroth's computer desktop with three buxom ladies wearing very little and waving fluffy pink bunnies.

It was decided, after much strenuous debate (begging, to be more precise) on Tifa's part, that the fluffy pink bunnies were out. She was not about to take another chance with being sent to Hojo's lab, or worse. The babes, Chaka insisted, would stay.

"Do you realize how much vacation time the guy gets?" her erstwhile companion had asked in defense of his scheme.

Tifa shook her head.

"Zero."

That surprised her. "How can they do that?"

Chaka shrugged. "It's Shin-Ra. That's how." He answered and took a spin in the office chair that looked and felt like new. He'd earlier put money down that Sephiroth had never actually sat in the chair as it was too far beneath him, which she had scoffed lightly at.

Tifa, not being a gambling person herself, but feeling the strain of three days spent running errands and sorting papers, took up the bet anyway.

"Come to think of it," Chaka continued thoughtfully, "He hasn't been given leave in at least five years. They don't send him on assignment as much now days either – nothing to do I guess, though with all these terrorist groups on the rise that's bound to change."

A tingling erupted at the base of Tifa's neck, spreading across her skull in a cool trickle. Five years ago was the Nibelheim incident – it couldn't be mere coincidence. They weren't letting him out so frequently because they knew he was unpredictable and dangerous.

But what bothered her the most was the reminder that the world wasn't stable anymore. It hadn't been for a while. Every day things became more heated between the civilians of Midgar and their overseer. It was only a matter of time before things exploded…and she would be right in the middle.

She stared blankly down at the stack of papers she held. She didn't know what they were about or what they were for, and she didn't really care. This was her last errand of the day, to take them up to Director Lazard's desk. Sephiroth had provided another key card the day before, having known that she would be making several rounds on the upper floors.

If nothing else, it had proved to be a very useful tour of the restricted areas that she would not normally have access to. She had a comfortable understanding of which hall lead where and how to get from point A to point B without getting lost, and most importantly, caught. The latter was trickier, but she was infinitely better off now than she had been three days ago.

"I'm taking this upstairs." Tifa announced and pivoted towards the door.

"Alright, I'm finished here." Chaka answered and stood. "Meet you at the mess hall in thirty?"

"Okay." She nodded.

Naturally, she was just stepping out into the hall when the General appeared around the corner. She stopped, debated ignoring him and walking on by, and decided against it.

"Sir," Tifa addressed him loudly from down the hall. She didn't wonder at the sheer silliness of holding a conversation at this distance. "You've sat in your office chair, haven't you?"

Yes, it's true – she'd just said that. Chaka's personality was starting to rub off on her.

Sephiroth actually stopped and appeared to do a double take. "Excuse me?"

Tifa steeled herself, "Chaka maintains that you have never actually sat in the chair in your office." She went on to explain, "So, have you?"

His brow wrinkled comically, and then he frowned, as if he couldn't quite recall the answer. A light flickered in his eyes and he looked back at her calmly then, "I believe I have. Once."

"Once?" She repeated incredulously. She made a face, shrugged, and yelled back into the office, "You owe me 50 gil, Chaka!"

The General was giving her as strange look as she marched past him. It made her giddy, though she didn't quite know why. At least, it did until she reminded herself that she loathed him quite deeply.

There was no use stewing over it. Her final task still awaited completion.

Lazard…she knew that name from somewhere, aside from all the spamming he did on the e-mail. That was it! He was director of all SOLDIER operations. That explained the spamming.

Tifa flipped idly through the file in her hands. It contained mostly SOLDIER reports, but buried underneath it and tucked inside the back flap was a thin piece of paper. She slid the sheet out and examined the exquisite scrawl with interest.

_Five 3__rd__ class missing this month. I will kill him if this does not cease._

Her pace slowed almost to a crawl as she read the note over again, the words sinking like a lead weight in the pit of her stomach. Her eyes softened unexpectedly. She tucked it safely back into its place of hiding and resumed walking.

Director Lazard's office was a floor above Sephiroth's. She had never met him before, nor did she expect to now. Not surprisingly, his office was empty when she arrived. He delegated to 1st class only, which transferred orders to 2nd and 3rd respectively.

Tifa looked around for a minute before setting the folder down on his desk. There was an unsettling feeling in the room. It wasn't sinister, but it left a hollow, empty feeling inside her. She was glad to put it behind her when she stepped back out into the hall.

By the time she reached the foyer of the cafeteria, the building was in an uproar. There were SOLDIER's running past her, pulling her to and fro as she tried to make her way through. Everyone was standing or leaving, and the cafeteria was full of raised, frantic voices.

Tifa glanced around, bewildered and alarmed. She strained her ears, picking up disjointed bits of urgent conversation. Gradually it came together into something coherent.

"…south reactor…number 4."

"Blew it sky high…"

"…resistance…sending rescue parites…"

"…casualties in the dozens…"

"Do they know…have they been caught?"

"Avalanche…they're saying…"

"Weren't they…wiped out...Sephiroth…"

"…revived…new members…"

"Yo, Fry!"

Tifa twisted around to face Chaka as he darted and wove through the tangled room. He had a sudden intensity about him that put her on edge. Then he was grabbing her by the arm and thrusting her into the crowd in front of him.

"We gotta go." He said from right behind her as they pushed down the hall, "The helicopter is waiting out front."

A sudden inkling of terror tingled in Tifa's extremities as she found herself diving into the elevator (rather, being shoved). Chaka was restless on his toes as they descended the floors and the air sizzled with his pent up energy. He was tearing down the stairs and across the first floor lobby before the doors had fully opened.

Tifa wandered after him in a dreamlike state. Her legs were moving, but she didn't know how, and her mind was a haze of confusion. There were others around her, a flurry of blue movement that she couldn't focus on for it never stood still.

A loud, thundering noise pervaded her senses. There was a rhythm to it, like a rapidly rotating blade.

Then she was climbing into a helicopter, pushed into a seat, and they were lifting into the air. It was a peculiar sensation at first, but not unpleasant. Tifa watched the ground that was not more than ten feet below them in fascination. The chopper banked to the left smoothly, the nose tilted down and they set off into the night.

She had never been in a chopper before and realized quite randomly that she wouldn't mind doing it again, but under less urgent circumstances. This was flying in a whole different dimension. For a while she forgot the purpose of her being there at all and simply enjoyed the journey.

The smell of burning metal reached her nose before the glowing remains of the reactor even came into sight. The chopper lifted up over a rise of buildings into Sector 4 where charred edges of gnarled metal stuck up from a gaping hole in the foundations of the plate. Pale green slime coated the shattered steel piping that transected the ruined reactor and the crumbled remains of several buildings that had been caught by the edge of the explosion.

Looking at it from so high, it seemed to cover a mile radius. As she squinted closer, she could see movement there as well. Some of it was hurried and spry, while others were faint and sluggish.

As the chopper swept in for the landing, Tifa saw that the bodies of movement were civilians writhing on the ground. Many of them were coated in the same glowing ooze that she had seen glazing the explosion site. Some of them did not move at all.

"Gods above…" She whispered and her throat tightened. "The mako poisoning…it's killing them."

Chaka sat across from her, his mouth set in a grim line. He jumped to the ground as soon as they'd landed and was immediately intercepted by Angeal as he ran across the rock strewn courtyard. Tifa looked around, unsure, and eventually jumped down herself to join them, making sure to duck below the rotor blades.

It was chaos everywhere she looked. Medics were scouring the broken buildings for wounded, SOLDIER's were going every which way, and orders were being shouted at random intervals from no direction that she could pinpoint. In the distance, people were screaming in pain.

Angeal and Chaka seemed to be the only two people standing still amongst the tumult.

She edged towards them and kept quiet as she listened in on the conversation.

"They're flanking us on the right," Angeal was saying and his expression was abnormally grave, "and it appears that we have severely underestimated their numbers because they're pushing us back. I'm sending the two of you in to hold the rear guard until Sephiroth can back you up."

"What about you?" Tifa asked, arriving late into the conversation.

Angeal pivoted sharply, "I am needed at the front." He stated and was gone almost instantly.

"Where…?" The word had scarcely left her mouth before Chaka was racing off in the other direction and she was forced to run just to keep up.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **We have chapter 5! Things are starting to heat up a little bit now.

Happy New Year everyone! Please leave some feedback, thanks.

Faerlyte


	6. Chapter 6

**The Warrior**

_By Faerlyte_

_

* * *

_

She was confused. For a long time all there seemed to be were the wounded and the dead being tended to by the living. There was no clash of swords or rapid gunfire, no shouts of alarm that she could hear. It didn't seem possible that a revolt of the scale Angeal alluded to could be going on anywhere in their vicinity.

They rounded a street corner that was scarcely a whisper of its former self. The building had been demolished by the explosion, scattering debris across the road and into the shops lining the opposite street. She and Chaka had to pick their way through and by the time they had reached the other side she could hear it.

Gunfire: semi-automatic rifles, not the standard assault rifle of Shin-Ra SOLDIER 3rd class. There was fighting going on alright, and the majority of it sounded like the resistance.

"Wish you'd brought that fancy rifle I hear tell Angeal gave ya," Chaka mentioned as he lead the way. "Be right useful about now."

Tifa was glad she didn't. Of which side she stood in this war she didn't yet know, but there was no questioning her disdain for all things Shin-Ra. But there were also dead civilians in the street to consider.

_Dead civilians that lived above the plate, _she reminded herself. They lived above the plate because they were loyal Shin-Ra employees or in the pockets of them. What about the people who lay dead and cold in the slums?

That was an internal debate for another time though.

They arrived in time to save one squad of SOLDIER riflemen that had managed to hold off the onslaught that had struck them by surprise. Darting between cover down the street were men and women dressed in hand-me-down patchwork clothes and grungy leather shoes . They were equipped with crude blades and custom rifles, but in capable hands they were more than enough to finish off the remains of the squadron that had not made it to cover in time.

Tifa frowned in concern. A force such as this, which was undisciplined and untrained, had managed to force back SOLDIER troops. Grant it, the SOLDIERs were primarily 3rd class, but usually that was more than enough to fend off the poor and desolate.

Clearly, that was not the case here. Something had changed, or SOLDIER wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

Off to her left, Chaka was attempting to take control of the situation, barking out orders and forming a cohesive defense. The SOLDIERs huddled behind whatever they could find - vehicles, debris, buildings - and fired barrages at regular intervals, but did not engage the enemy outright. Their dead comrades were scattered across the open pavement where they had tried – but no one had been expecting a force of any size and certainly not one so well organized.

Tifa stood back, uncertain of her role, and watched as Chaka directed the attack. In some ways she envied him. He seemed to know what to do in a situation where every second counted, whereas she was standing at a loss. To think that they wanted to make a First Class out of her; it was laughable in an unfunny sort of way.

Her eyes caught on the hulking figure of a man in the distance. A volley of bullets that sounded like a gatling gun fired from a massive attachment at his wrist. He was flanked by two men, one rail thin, and the other heavy set. They advanced on the line, ducking behind parked cars as they waved their comrades forward

It was clear that they were the ones in control of the situation.

Tifa continued to watch the man with a grim sort of fascination. His dark eyes were hardened like granite from years spent in suppression beneath the plates and he gazed across the proceedings with a calm sort of detachment that made her skin shiver. He was a leader of men, unlike some people she knew.

A second later and the reflexes for which she had been singled out by Angeal on her first day saved her life.

The darting glint of steel materialized from the alleyway to her right. She spun deftly to the side, grabbed the shadowed figure by the wrist, and gave it a sharp twist. There was a masculine howl of pain as the knife clattering to the concrete. Stepping swiftly inside and using her body as leverage, Tifa launched him sailing over her shoulder and he slammed to the ground with bone breaking force. She knocked him out cold with a punch to the jaw.

"Right flank, Chaka!" Tifa shouted, and sprang back on the defense as the remaining ambush emerged from the secluded alley.

A silver bullet burst past her with a gust of air that nearly knocked her off her feet. She had the sudden sensation of standing still as the world spun away from her. Then she blinked, and a trail of bodies met her dazed expression.

Voices rang out in alarm from up ahead and Tifa whirled around. The Silver General had been spotted and the man with the gun arm was on his feet and sounding a retreat. He fired a barrage rapid enough that Sephiroth himself was forced to take cover or catch a bullet. The resistance force split at the end of the street, taking opposite paths. A resonating boom wracked the ground as a smoke bomb was set off to cover their escape.

Sephiroth pursued at once, leaving behind the forces of SOLDIER who stood back in vague wonder, their guns hanging limply at their sides. No one moved.

Tifa once again found herself under the influence of irrational rage. He had decimated five people in the space of a second and had not spared a word for the men who had knelt here maintaining the defense at risk of their lives. He had left them behind without so much as a thought or order, intent on doing the job himself.

Her brow leveled in an angry scowl at the anti-climactic ending. Sephiroth was gone for scarcely five minutes before he landed quite suddenly in front of them. Her heart gave a start and she glanced up. Where had he come from?

"You lose them?" Chaka asked.

Sephiroth's mouth twitched ever so slightly, "They hopped a train – I have sent word, but it is doubtful that they will still be on it when back up arrives."

Tifa found that hard to believe, but she was still stewing in anger over his earlier behavior to think too much of it. She remained rooted in place, unable to move for the twisting of bitter disappointment in her gut. This was appalling to all of her sensibilities, especially as a fighter.

This was what boys everywhere aspired to? A self-serving egotist who neglected them?

Sephiroth noticed her staring at him and his lips formed a scowl to equal hers, "Have you something to say, SOLDIER?" He bit out curtly.

Her chest heaved in indignation and she took a calming breath. They were starting to draw some attention, "Sir, can I have a word?"

He blinked, as if what she asked was simply incomprehensible. It dawned on her that he probably did not regularly lower himself to speaking with SOLDIERs, let alone answering requests. She wholly expected him to reply with a sharp rebuke.

He did not.

"Very well," He said and gestured to the deserted alley from which the earlier ambush had come.

Tifa followed him resolutely as the heat of a dozen curious stares pricked her back. She had to pick her way carefully, avoiding the pools of stagnant blood from the fallen. When he stopped and turned to face her, she pulled her shoulders back and her chin up.

"Speak." He commanded and crossed his arms impatiently.

Words failed her for one horrifying instant, but she gathered her courage and forged ahead, "A great General, sir," She stated evenly, "is a leader of men who eschews glory for the sake of making those who fight beside him better."

She glared, as if to dare him to refute her.

His eyes narrowed as he regarded her shrewdly, "Am I to take it that you disapprove of my technique?"

She inhaled shakily, "I mean to say that a skilled warrior you might be, but what good will it do them," she gestured to the SOLDIERs milling about. "—if they cannot be allowed to fight properly under your direction, and gain confidence from it?"

A tiny muscle I his cheek appeared to twitch, "The title 'General' came into being through an over-eager fan base, I regret to say," He explained, "I bear no such responsibility within the hierarchy of SOLDIER."

Tifa's shoulders slumped and she frowned unhappily, "But then…" Her heart actually sank and she gazed up at him entreatingly, "-you're not a General at all…all this...all the talk, the Greatest General of all time…none of it is true?"

At that Sephiroth's brow lowered a fraction, casting shadows over his eyes. He stared back at her wordlessly and it occurred to her that he didn't know what to say. Something like doubt flitted across his face and he looked away.

"Well, maybe you should start," Tifa suggested, and she didn't know why the next words came out, but they did, "—they all look up to you so much…they want to be like you, they _believe _in you …" Her determination hardened and she took a step towards him, "How can you waste such potential when it's practically groveling at your feet?"

She almost wanted to cry at the absurdity. Sephiroth was an imposter of his own image. Here he had all the power in the world at his fingertips – a force that she was certain, if he put in the effort, could be made into an unstoppable army – and he didn't even pretend to lead it. He just didn't care.

"Unless you can't lead," Tifa opined bluntly, "and skill is all you have to fight with."

Some unconscious part of her was aware that she had over stepped her bounds, but where Sephiroth was concerned she didn't care. Thus far he had proved surprisingly indifferent, despite her absurd behavior. Suffice it to say, however, that just about did it for his patience.

Sephiroth's eyes hardened like steal and he leaned towards her imposingly, "Careful, SOLDIER." He warned, "My tolerance for insubordination only goes so far."

Tifa gritted her teeth from blurting out something that would escalate matters any further. "Insubordination to _what_? You can do no more to me." She muttered and turned away, feeling suddenly very foolish and tired. "Just forget it."

She supposed, had it been any other commanding officer, she would have been seriously in for it. With Sephiroth she recognized a certain reluctance to deal out punishment for trifling matters. For all his prestige, he was not much of a disciplinarian when it came to protocols. His disregard for the men who would follow him and his reluctance to call her out now were both proof of that.

Sephiroth was left standing alone, the unearthly glow of his eyes filling the now almost abandoned alleyway. He stared after the SOLDIER's retreating back, wondering how the world had so swiftly turned under his feet. The words seemed to burn inside of him.

His nerves tingled with something unidentifiable, but distinctly unsettling. Not for the first time he felt as if the boy somehow knew things about him that he didn't.

Knew more about him and disliked him immensely for it… Sephiroth did not like the feeling it left him. A feeling of not knowing something that it was imperative he remember, of being in the dark when everyone else was standing in the light. He knew that it must have something to do with the incident five years ago – an incident that had left his memory blank, and which no one had ever deemed necessary to clarify to him.

Chaka intercepted Tifa's escape, "What was that all about?" He asked.

Tifa shook her head, "It was nothing. What do we do now?"

Her friend made a face of resentment, "HQ is pulling us back for now – says the Turks will handle the pursuit from here."

"Oh, okay." She had no basis for disliking the Turks and didn't feel much of anything at the reference.

They were a special ops force, dwindling in number these days according to what she'd heard, who handled the companies dirty work. That alone was reason to hate them in her mind, but Tifa made an effort to reserve judgment to individuals. She had enough problems of her own without having to worry about them too.

"It's back to the helicopter for us."Chaka sighed and rounded up the remaining foot SOLDIERs. "Let's go – we're pulling out."

No one seemed surprised by this, though Tifa had to admit that _she _was. It was only a few minutes ago that they had been locked in battle. Wasn't there something they could do?

"What about the dead?" She asked, casting a hopeless glance at the bodies.

"Medics will clean it up." Chaka replied. "Angeal said to meet him back at HQ to discuss the situation, so we might not be out of the game yet."

Tifa wondered why he wanted to be in the game, because she didn't. Of course, everyone assumed she wanted to because she was here and missions were what SOLDIERs did. New recruits had a one month integration period before they started taking on missions though.

She hadn't even made it through her first week yet.

The highlight of the night was riding in the helicopter a second time. They were accompanied by Sephiroth, which took away slightly from the experience, but he kept to himself. She didn't quite know what she expected from him after their earlier conversation, but she was surprised to see him so immersed in his thoughts that he didn't even notice when they'd landed.

Even the General was prone to flights of fancy. Tifa wrinkled her nose. She really shouldn't be thinking of him like that anymore because he wasn't a General at all. He was just another SOLDIER, even if he was the best of them…

He could be so much more.

Tifa found she was hungry when they stepped off the helicopter and entered headquarters. They had missed dinner due to the reactor blowing and the ensuing battle. It was already ten past eight and so the cafeteria would be closed. The thought of going hungry for the rest of the night made her immediately grouchy.

According to the guard at the front doors, Angeal had not yet arrived. They hadn't taken two steps across the first floor lobby before Chaka's phone started ringing. He stopped mid stride and fumbled into his pocket to answer it.

The conversation was very brief.

"Sir?" His voice echoed.

Long silence…

"Yes, sir." And that was it.

Chaka put the phone away and turned around to face her, "The last of the resistance has been successfully subdued. Sounds like the majority of them got away though – Angeal's saying they've probably got a backdoor in the upper city somewhere and they're using it to pass above and below the plates undetected. "

That made sense. For them to have gotten the slip on Sephiroth they would have to have a secret route.

"We're on standby now, so nothing to do until we're told otherwise." Chaka said as they entered the elevator. He glanced her way as he settled against the wall, "You eat anything yet?"

Sephiroth, who had been so quiet in the intervening minutes that Tifa had completely forgotten he was even there, stepped into the elevator with them. He leaned his back against the wall, one leg crossed over the other, and gazed down at the floor with such intensity it was a wonder it didn't spontaneously combust. She had lost track of Chaka's question, her attention now firmly centered on the other man.

"Hey," Chaka said loudly. "Earth to Fry."

Both their heads jerked up at the same time, looking at Chaka as if they'd only just noticed he was there.

Chaka glanced between the two at a loss, "I was just going to say that if you want to get a bite to eat up at the big wigs restaurant, I'll buy."

That is how Tifa found herself seated in a luxuriously furnished, brightly lit room around a table with Chaka on her right and Sephiroth to her left. She hadn't even known this place existed. One look at the prices and she understood why.

It was not an establishment built with the humble foot soldier in mind. All of it seemed to bellow, 'I am too expensive'.

The bar was silver trimmed with a narrow strip of neon lights running the length of the perimeter, the floor immaculately polished green and silver plating, and the table tops were made of glass with laser engraved ivy boarders. There was a dance floor, a strobe light, and plush lounge chairs surrounding the perimeter.

Even the chairs contorted to the curve of the sitter's body, which was a novel sensation. Tifa wasn't sure whether she liked that feature, but it was certainly something to mark down in her book of interesting experiences.

They were the only SOLDIERs present, she noted, but no one appeared to care. It probably wasn't unusual for them to have the occasional SOLDIER come in to dine, just not very often. She glanced sideways, wondering if Sephiroth was a frequent customer of theirs.

He did know his way around, that much was clear. He had led them to a somewhat concealed table in the far corner of the room. There were fewer lights and it was the farthest from the speakers that were currently blaring out the latest hit in pop music.

Tifa perused the menu in silence, her expression shifting from one entre to the next in an varying degrees of disbelief. She was not aware that she had an audience and continued to frown, gawk, and otherwise be astounded by the attempted highway robbery taking place on the menu. She took one look at the chef's salad and had to restrain herself from snorting into her glass of water – they hadn't charged her for that yet, but she wasn't holding her breath.

It was all_ very_ expensive. There really was no point in opting for the cheap meal that she didn't really want just to save a few gil. Besides, she'd never had lobster before and if nothing else, she expected the food to be a step up in quality.

_It had better be… _

They waited at first, in silence. Chaka was, he thought, surreptitiously keeping an eye on one of the waitresses as Sephiroth subtly scowled at the SOLDIER's _lack _of subtlety. Tifa squirmed uncomfortably in her seat and couldn't stop throwing wary looks at the silver haired menace to her left.

She was eating dinner with the lunatic responsible for her father's death. How was that possible? On that same vein of thought, how was any of this possible? She shouldn't even be here.

Tifa sighed and leaned her elbows against the table, unaware that she had once again drawn the attention of the aforementioned menace. For the first time in many years, she found herself craving home – home, where she had lived most of her young life; home where there had been trails through the mountains to explore, forests to run through, and peaceful quiet.

She missed the country.

"You know," Chaka launched into conversation without warning, "I never asked where you came from, Fry."

Tifa fell still, her hands falling in her lap to worry themselves as she lowered her gaze to the table and scrambled for a reply, "I'm a country boy." She said and her brain winced. _That _felt silly.

"Whereabouts?" He asked unassumingly.

She was made instantly aware of Sephiroth's focused interest in her at this question. Her cheeks flushed and she had an overpowering compulsion to blurt out the truth, just to see how he would react, "Nibelheim."

Whatever Chaka had said got lost in the space between Sephiroth gazing at her with eerie concentration and her looking back in desperation. What she tried to see behind the abnormal slit pupils of his eyes was nowhere to be found. There was an empty, dark chasm in them where the memory should have been and signs of pain, horror, _something_, but there was no hint of recollection.

Tifa couldn't believe it; he didn't appear to remember. There was no spark of understanding, no flicker of madness – he simply looked at her as if he expected her to tell _him_ what that meant, because he sure as hell didn't know, which was impossible.

Was that what he wanted?

Their meals couldn't have arrived in a more timely fashion. Tifa was relieved for the diversion and dug into hers with a vengeance – it was very good, grant it she'd never run across a lobster that _wasn't _good. She was also starving, but that had been forgotten temporarily with the sobering realization that Sephiroth was not who he should've been.

He was missing integral pieces to himself, which was quite possibly the only reason he was currently sane.

Tifa sat back suddenly and swallowed the morsel that had gone tasteless in her mouth. Her head turned to the subject of her ruminations and she set down her fork. Fear and uncertainty warred for precedence over her body – in the end neither won.

The act of eating, no matter how refined, is rather inelegant. It's hard to view things in quite same light when you're watching someone masticate a piece food. She was tempted by a bout of hysteria to laugh out loud at the sheer absurdity of the entire thing.

Here she was watching Sephiroth, greatest warrior of all time, madman extraordinaire, eating. His movements were slow and precise, so as not to draw attention to himself. It occurred to her with startling clarity that he was uncomfortable.

Realizing this, and the fact that she was unabashedly watching him, she jerked her attention back to her plate. She set back to finishing her meal and was relieved when the plate was finally taken away. Chaka leaned back with a satisfied sigh and rubbed his stomach.

"Man," He said, "it might break the bank, but it sure as hell beats eating out anywhere else."

Tifa gave a meditative nod, her thoughts still in a tangle of silver knots. She didn't dare so much as make a twitch in Sephiroth's direction. She'd spent far too much time sneaking glances his way as it was.

"Nibelheim, eh?" Chaka continued obliviously. "Heard of it, but never been there. Guess it is pretty out of the way out there."

"Yeah," Tifa answered quietly. Her helm lowered, obscuring her mouth as she tucked her chin behind her collar in an obvious attempt to avoid the topic of conversation.

Chaka seemed to take the hint after a minute. His attention shifted to Sephiroth instead, "Any word on Genesis?"

Sephirpth's lifted his head, "Genesis?" He repeated, "No, the case was closed three years ago."

The darker man sat up straight, "That's not what I heard."

Sephiroth's eyes flickered towards him sharply, "I have not been informed of anything new."

Chaka hesitated before taking a tentative step down the path of revolt, "Well, someone's been sending SOLDIERs to poke around in the North Crater for the last month. They're not giving specifics on what exactly they're looking for, but I can hazard a guess…"

"I see." Sephiroth murmured.

The waitress chose that moment to arrive with the bill. Chaka had just begun reaching for it when Sephiroth deftly intercepted.

"I will pay." He said and handed the girl his Shin-Ra debit card.

That was it. Chaka never got the words of protest out of his mouth, perhaps in realizing that resistance was futile where Sephiroth was concerned.

"Thank you." Tifa spoke automatically.

She felt acutely embarrassed, and annoyed. Not only because it was Sephiroth buying her a meal, but also because she was the only one who hadn't offered. She couldn't even had she wanted to. Her salary was minimal and until she was assigned some missions, it would continue to be minimal.

The waitress returned.

Sephiroth said nothing as he stood and accepted his card back from the girl, completely oblivious to the engaging smile she plastered on her face for his benefit. He was already walking away with a stern gait, leaving the poor thing to gaze forlornly at his back. Tifa shook her head infinitesimally, her lips quirked slightly to one side as she followed Chaka out.

Maybe Chaka was right after all. A woman map indeed.

* * *

That night Tifa dreamt of Nibelheim. She was standing at the gates, looking in, and as things often are in dreams, it was distorted and strange. There was a helicopter parked in front of the well, which really wasn't a well at all, but a four foot trench in the ground filled with overpriced restaurant menus. The rotor blades of the helicopter were made up of four masamunes.

She was going to fly it, according to Chaka. He was going to show her how to fly it, he said. It was going to require a live lobster and one of Hojo's mysterious vials, which was supposed to be poured over the controls for reasons that were never adequately explained.

Then Sephiroth made his untimely arrival and dream Tifa rounded on him in fury. He had killed her father – how dare he show up here! But before she could proceed with her rant, Sephiroth pressed a finger to her lips and whispered softly in her ear,

"I'm not ready to remember yet."

* * *

Tifa woke with a shiver the next morning. It hadn't been a nightmare in the normal sense, but it left her with a strange sensation in the back of her skull. The words he had spoken, while completely random and insignificant in the dream, made an eerie sort of sense to her awake.

Was the dream sending her a message? She'd never put much faith in that sort of thing, but perhaps her subconscious felt the need to warn her.

She never had any intention of bringing up the incident to Sephiroth – certainly not now. Before it had simply been a matter of avoiding detection; it was now a matter of complete urgency.

And with it came innumerable questions. How long before he remembered? What would happen when he did? Who, if anyone, was responsible for wiping his memory clean, and why?

The latter question she could guess, but the rest who could say?

Tifa shuffled through her morning routine of brushing teeth, getting dressed and putting up her hair. Her bangs were becoming troublesome as they were just short enough that they didn't stay up with the rest, and just long enough that they were visible beneath her helm. She chose to ignore it and headed out of the room, her planner and phone in hand.

At least she was remembering to check them both regularly. There was nothing new on the agenda. Chaka hadn't had time to come up with a training schedule, what with being set to work on Sephiroth's office for a few days.

There was a message from Professor Lowell however. The materia thief was still on the prowl and he was incensed, threatening consequences and emasculation to whomever was responsible.

After minute of debate, Tifa decided to give Chaka a call. He picked up immediately.

"Yo, Fry, what's up?"

"Uh," She bit her lip, "I was wondering if you could pick me up an apple on from the kitchens?"

"No problem." He answered. "Oh yeah, I talked to Angeal last night and he agreed to letting you and me trade morning workout for our one on one training session. So, meet me in the Training Room at 7, alright?"

"Okay," Tifa replied, "See you then."

"See ya."

If Tifa had thought it would be easier training with Chaka, she was badly mistaken. His true sadistic nature had only been waiting for the opportune moment to reveal itself. He didn't pull his punches either

By the end of the first hour Tifa thought she would die, or at least collapse in a heap of pain.

Chaka laughed good-naturedly. "Hey, we're just toughening up your skin, you know? You'll thank me the next time you catch a glancing blow to the ribs and your iron stomach breaks his hand."

Tifa snorted and rolled over into a fit of giggles. She clapped a hand over her mouth and bit down to keep from doing it again. "Right."

Chaka gave her a fleeting look of perplexity before smiling ruefully, "You'll see, you'll see." He straightened up from the tree trunk he'd been leaning against and walked back into the small grass clearing. "Ready?"

She lolled her head back in defeat and gave a weak nod.

"Now," He began, "I think it's dandy that you're good with a sniper rifle, but what we want to do is teach you to make the same instant kill…using just your hands."

Her mouth fell open, "But that's impossible."

Chaka approached her smoothly and poked her first in the chest and then on her forehead. "All the potential is waiting in there – we just have to find a way for you to tap into it."

"But I'm not—"

"Martial Arts aren't just about move sets, Fry." Chaka interrupted firmly. "There is a life force around us and in us that, if properly wielded, can be devastating in its power."

He punched his hand with a loud smack, making her jump.

"One punch, Fry." Chaka said and waggled a single digit in front of her nose, "One punch to incapacitate an enemy ten times as thick as that tree," he pointed (the tree in question was two feet in diameter), "Now that's power."

Tifa blinked skeptically. "You think I can do that?"

"Sure," Chaka returned easily. "You've already shown an affinity for it. You just need the proper training."

"You can do that?" She asked even more skeptically, despite herself.

He rolled his eyes. "_Man, _give a guy a break. I didn't get this far by being a complete slouch."

"I'm sorry." She returned quickly, "I didn't mean it that way. It's just, I thought those techniques had been lost a long time ago. Didn't the Templar monks teach them?"

"That's right." Chaka nodded. "There was an old man in my tribe who spent part of his youth in one of their temples – before they were all burned to the ground anyway – he was very old though, and it was a long time ago back then. I basically harassed him until he agreed to teach me everything he knew. Strong for a wrinkly old grandfather – handed me my ass more than a few times."

"That's amazing." Tifa murmured. "Were you hunter gatherers then? On the plains I mean."

"Pretty much." He answered. "Alright, hands up."

The next hour was the most frustrating stretch of minutes Tifa could remember experiencing in a while. It was going to be a long process, Chaka told her. A long, grueling, infuriating process, but the reward was unequaled.

"You might even beat Sephiroth one day," He let on with a wink.

The third hour was spent slaughtering various simulated fiends using the techniques that Chaka was trying to teach her. She successfully executed one shockwave that left a tiny crack in the simulated earth. Chaka was positively elated.

"See? I told ya!" He gave her a playful jab to the shoulder that almost knocked her sprawling, "You're a natural."

More like a blooming failure, but who was she to disagree with the master?

* * *

**Author's Note: ** A little late on getting this one out. Life is busy. Anyhow, thanks everyone for all the feedback. Keep it coming, reviews are the fuel that drives me.

Faerlyte


	7. Chapter 7

**The Warrior**

_By me, hahaha...err, Faerlyte_

I'm not really happy with this, but...crap. I'm settling for less, how lame.

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 7**

A week went by and all word of the resistance had faded into nothing. Both Angeal and Sephiroth were away on missions, which, though it pained Tifa to admit, made the whole experience of SOLDIER quite boring. At least Sephiroth got her nerves working and gave her something to think about.

He was, for the meantime, out of sight and out of mind. Training with Chaka was bearing fruits. She was learning to channel her spirit through meditation – each time it became a little easier. It was only a small step towards a much larger goal, but it was still progress. Her fighting skills had improved drastically through simple tweaking.

Today was special though – special because Tifa was going out into the city for the first time since coming here. A tremble of anticipation went through her as she boarded the train and sat down in an empty seat towards the rear of the railcar.

There were only a couple of people onboard with her, all of them finely dressed in suits and ties. They were either on business elsewhere or going out to lunch.

She passed time staring out the window through her visor. It would be refreshing to get out of the uniform for a day. A leather bag sat between her legs containing a change of clothes that she had been keeping for such an occasion.

Tifa got off at Sector 5 and made for the nearest clothing store. Then she secluded herself in one of the changing rooms and stripped off the uniform. It was agreat relief to walk around without the confining body armor that compressed her figure day in and day out, and not have to hide.

No one noticed the SOLDIER that had entered the changing room and come out in black and white sneakers, leather shorts and leather top. Her hair rippled behind her as she bounded down the steps and back onto the street. The only thing that gave her away was the subtle glow in her eyes.

It was a gray day, but the freedom tasted good. She walked steadily down the sidewalk back towards the train station, a smile playing at her lips. Her gaze was on the sky when a flash of pink crossed her path.

At the last minute an alarm registered in her brain and she stopped short in time to avoid a collision. The woman gasped, one hand grasping at her chest as she stepped back

"Oh I'm sorry!" She said with a tiny frown. "I didn't see you there." A wicker basket full of flowers hung from her arm. "Would you like a flower? There 5 gil a piece."

Tifa blinked, taken aback, "Oh," she leaned over the basket hesitantly and smelled sweet earth. Her eyes softened. "Sure, I'll take three." She carefully picked out the best that she could find and handed over 15 gil. "I can't imagine there are many flowers around here."

"No." The woman was looking at her strangely, "It's a shame really."

"You must do good business." Tifa commented as she admired her purchase – not quite Nibelheim, but it was close enough.

"I make do." She smiled wanly, but her eyes, a vibrant green color, remained steadfast on hers.

Tifa ducked her head from the woman's inquiring gaze. She had a sudden desire to flee from the street. There was something odd and almost ethereal about the woman.

"I've never seen you before," She went on to say, "Are you from around here?"

Tifa shook her head adamantly, "No."

"Oh," She murmured and smiled a bright, infectious smile, "Well, thank you. Take care now,"

"Yes, you too, thanks." Tifa hastened away from the street and the pink flower girl. She was heading for the train terminal. It was scheduled to make a pass into the slums in fifteen minutes.

There were more passengers than before and fewer suits – in fact there wasn't a single suited person present that she could see. Tifa sat in the back again and leaned her head against the window frame. The train cranked into motion slowly and soon the passing buildings softened into gray, streaked with passing lights.

It had a certain mesmerizing quality to it.

Before she knew it the train was grinding to a halt and people were getting up out of their seats. She blinked, stirring herself fomr the brief doze, and trailed after them.

Tifa stepped down onto the dusty ground and gazed upwards towards the massive plate of steel above, so high above that it was hardly more than a black shadow. It sent a shiver down her spine. The earth here was barren and dry, and the air stale from stagnancy. There was no wind to speak of in this place.

She walked slowly, examining her surroundings.

Broken slabs of solid metal, rusting pipes, shredded rubber, and various broken bits were piled to either side of the path against monstrous concrete slab walls. Garbage littered the ground half buried in the dusty earth and abandoned.

There were no plants, no trees.

Graffiti sprawled across the walls of concrete and steel, children too young to be alone played in the streets in rags, and the homeless loitered in corners in ramshackle shelters of anything they could lay hands on. Their hair was matted, their faces obscured beneath layers of dirt and grease. Some of them were sickly frail.

Tifa's heart shriveled in her chest.

She kept going until she had reached what appeared to be the town proper, or at least a business area of sorts. There were streets lined with shops and gleaming neon signs. The outer buildings were run down and patched together with everything, from car doors to mud, but towards the center of activity there were sleeker strcutures and plush furnishings for the more well to do.

People laughed and talked, and their clothes didn't have as many holes or as many stains. They were flourishing despite it all. Giving in was probably the last thing on their minds.

It took several hours just to find her way through sector 5. To think that there were six other sectors that she had yet to explore was quite sobering. It might take weeks to find what she was looking for in this place.

Luck, however, was shining on her that day. She came to a playground to sit on the swing and relax for a while. It was nice to hear the laughter of children and see simple pleasure in a world gone horribly awry.

An adult's voice interrupted the cheer and she automatically craned her neck to listen.

"Just for a bit, Marlene." The man said gruffly. "We gotta be gettin' home soon."

Tifa twisted around in her swing to get a better look. The chains were taut and ready to spin her dizzy, but she waited, the toes of her shoes digging into the earth to hold steady. A tingle of apprehension trickled down the back of her neck.

It was him – the man with the gun arm.

On his good hand there clung a little girl, no more than 5 or 6 years of age. Her eyes sparkled with anticipation as they entered the playground and she set off to join the other children. The man lumbered to a spot nearby and leaned against the climbing bars with a poorly concealed sigh.

Tifa glanced towards him from the corner of her eyes. Then she picked up her feet and the world began to spin around her rapidly. Her hair sailed out around her and she grinned sheepishly. The swing gradually came to a stop and she lolled her head to the side, waiting for the ground to hold still again.

When her vision cleared she looked up to find the man watching her. She offered a neutral smile and went back to twisting her swing. Twist, twist, until it would twist no more and felt about to burst with tension. Then she let go.

It was just like back home on the swing behind her house. She doubted it was there anymore. Her sneakers dragged through the dirt as she came to a stop again with a contented sigh.

He was still watching her. This time, however, he spoke, "Ain't seen you 'round here before."

"I've never been here before." Tifa answered.

His arms were crossed over his chest and there was tension in his shoulders as he squared himself to her, "I know that glow." He said, "seen it in every SOLDIER I ever looked in the eye."

She looked away sadly. Hovering nearby was the little girl, Marlene. She was eyeballing the swing with obvious desire.

Tifa glanced beside her where the other swing should have been, but was no longer. She promptly vacated hers and made a small gesture to the girl, "Here you go." She said and walked to stand near the man with the gun arm. "You shouldn't be out here."

He scowled fiercely, "Yeah? Why not?"

She bit her lip and rested her chin in her hands as she leaned against the kiddy slide, "Because they're looking for you – I saw you, the day the reactor was blown."

That got a substantial reaction. The man took a step away from her, his legs spread as if to fight. His eyes flickered towards the child apprehensively.

"Whaddya want?" He demanded, keeping his voice low and out of ear shot.

Tifa tried to maintain a relaxed posture, though every nerve in her body was buzzing furiously, "I don't want anything. I came here to relax." She replied honestly. "I just thought you should know – it's not safe to be out and about anymore."

Marlene, who was not near as oblivious as her father would like, crept closer to the adult woman that had been using the swing. Her curiosity was piqued, not only by the strange glow of her wine colored eyes, but also because she was carrying the only flowers that Marlene had ever seen in the slums. She skirted the tense confrontation and snuck up the kiddy slide to get a closer look.

The lady was pretty. Not in a way that adults would say, but of warmth that glowed from within. She decided she would like her very much.

"Hello." A voice chirped.

Tifa straightened in surprise at the round face smiling timidly through the mouth of the moogle slide. A shackle of fear slipped away and she smiled back. "Hello there."

"Those are pretty flowers."Her little hand reached up and plucked one from Tifa's hair. She brought it to her nose then and inhaled deeply, "It smells like rain and honey!"

"Marlene!" The man chastised anxiously from behind her, "Ya know ya not supposed ta take things from people! How many time's 'ave I got ta tell ya!"

"No, no – don't worry about it." Tifa said quickly, shaking her head as she straightened from the slide and met the man's gaze. She cast a final smilel of farewell over her shoulder at the girl, "You can keep it."

Then she turned away.

"Thank you!"

Tifa waved goodbye as she left.

That night, she entered the simulator. It was late – an hour before curfew was in effect – but no one was about and the Training Room was empty. She perused the settings until she found what she was looking for.

In some ways, it made her sick because there it was on the list in bright glowing letters: Nibelheim.

Had they no shame at all? She was almost afraid to see what it looked like now, or what perversion they had put in its place.

The truth was even more ghastly than Tifa could have imagined as she stepped into an exact replica of what had been her hometown years ago. Everything, from the bricks to the shingles, was identical. She couldn't believe it – didn't _want _to believe it.

But it was a mere simulation. They could do anything they wanted with it, make it look like it once had, when in fact there was nothing left there but charred earth. Or so she thought.

Tifa made for her house with reluctance. She wasn't sure she wanted to see it after all this time, knowing that it could never be the same, but she wanted to face the past and try to gain some semblance of peace from it. So she pushed open the door on creaky hinges and cautiously stepped inside.

It was not the same. Something like relief swept through her and she let out a sigh. They could not have known her life that well.

She wandered upstairs and into the room that was almost, but not quite, like hers. There was the piano, more expensive than hers had been. Her fingers glided across the keys in reminiscence of what they had once played, but no more.

Then she moved onwards, out the back door. There was a trail that took off behind her house and crested a small hill on which stood an old gnarly oak tree. One branch in particular was very thick and angled perfectly for a swing. A gray, weather worn section of plywood hung from the limb on frayed gray ropes and whined as it swayed in the breeze.

Back then, it was the hot spot of all the children in town, but Tifa always had the jump on them because her house was closest.

She approached it now with reservation. The memories were ripe here, even knowing it was not real – it _felt _real. She sat down, winding her hands around the stiff ropes, and let the wind push her gently. Her eyes closed.

It was well past midnight when Tifa finally left the Training Room. She was in such a hurry to not get caught that she didn't notice the shadow lurking in the corner of the foyer there. It didn't move as she walked past, but watched and waited.

Then, when she had gone, he emerged, his lips twisted in a smirk. He checked his watch. When the elevator arrived he returned to his room.

* * *

Tifa hardly woke up the next morning, ostensibly because she never really slept at all. If she did, she didn't make it beyond the first rung, because her only recollection was of tossing and turning for most of the night and feeling like she wasn't really asleep, even though she knew that she had to have been at least part of the time.

Suffice to say it was a truly wretched feeling and her body just didn't want to _move. _She crawled out of bed with a groan, wished for the thousandth time that she hadn't gotten it into her head to attempt this harebrained scheme, and slouched off into the bathroom. It was going to take a lot of cold water in the face to wake her up this morning.

She managed something halfway to consciousness before emerging once again into the tiny confines of her room to dress for another morning of severe beat downs. Her phone promptly started ringing halfway through her morning ministration of wrenching on her under armor suit. With one leg wedged only part way down the right pant leg, she was forced to hop across the floor to reach it and almost tripped over her boots. She caught herself on the edge of the counter.

"H-hello?" Her throat was dry and cracked with the effort of speaking

"Woah," was the ingenious response, "What side of the bed did you get up on?"

Tifa stifled a yawn, "The one where you don't really sleep at all, despite trying to for most of the night."

"Ah, that one." Chaka commiserated. "I don't envy you today, but at least you didn't have Angeal banging on your door at 4:30 in the morning."

Her brow furrowed, "What for?"

"I'm being shipped out for a week," He replied, "You know what that means."

No, actually, she didn't. "Oh, do I?" She rubbed her eyes, which still didn't feel quite free of sleep, but they were clearing up.

"Your first real mission," Chaka supplied eagerly. "All by your lonesome, but don't worry, it's nothing dramatic. You'll probably get saddled with cleaning up the abandoned railway station – it's crawling with fiends, Gods know how they got there."

"Oh." Abandoned railway…she didn't remember seeing one of those the other day, but then she didn't see much beyond Sector 5, and that was in the slums. "Aren't they still searching for a secret route to the resistance?"

"Yeah, yeah, that too." He answered. "So, don't forget to mention it if you happen to find one, though I wouldn't expect to find anything there. It's pretty raunchy – not for the faint of heart at least."

_Not for people from the slums, you mean… _Tifa got the ominous feeling that they were still greatly underestimating the resistance force. If they weren't exercising all possibilities, there was no question they were being slack.

"So check your log. Angeal should have posted it by now." Chaka told her sternly (he fancied himself her organizer), "Take care of yourself Fry, alright? And keep practicing those techniques. It'll help with the ghouls."

He was gone before she could ask him, "What ghouls?"

Tifa glared down at the phone for a second before stuffing it roughly in her pocket. She really, _really _didn't like fighting alone. She really, really, _really _didn't like fighting in spooky abandoned railways alone.

Well, Chaka didn't know for certain where Angeal was sending her, so she could be getting all worked up for nothing.

With that in mind, Tifa took a deep calming breath, and finished getting dressed. She remembered to check her log as she was stepping into the hall. Sure enough, there was a new post

Her face fell, along with her stomach, and just about every other internal organ in her body, all the way into her suddenly lead-laden shoes.

_First mission: Exterminate fiends in the abandon railways of sector 5 – meet me in my office for a quick briefing._

_Angeal_

So much for optimism… Tifa made the march to Angeal's office as if it were a walk to the executioner's chair. What happened to no "I" in 'team'? For all his obvious failings, the guy in the cafeteria did make a good point that First Class SOLDIER seemed to miss – it was really a lot more effective when you had a team, not to mention safer.

Tifa would be the first to agree on that point, especially now that she was faced with the task of roaming haunted corners of Midgar. They probably expected her to be all manly and tough about it. Well dammit, she wanted to bury herself under a pile of blankets and sleep in instead!

The elevator came to a stop, the doors opened, and…Sephiroth was standing there, arching that stupid silver borw of his. Tifa didn't move, but stared at him as he stared back. Her mouth opened mutely, closed with a snap, and she bowled past him with an indignant huff.

"_Every _time," She grumbled, unaware that his acute hearing could pick up her mutterings quite clearly as she stormed down the hall. "I swear…"

Fortunately, she had composed herself by the time she arrived at Angeal's office. He was bent over the keyboard again when she arrived and looking quite irate about it. She wondered offhandedly how soon Sephiroth would be forced to choose a new victim for the odious task of doing his paperwork.

"Ah, just a moment, Fry," Angeal said and dallied about at the computer for a few minutes. When he was finished he stood up to address her, "I trust you've read through your assignment for today?"

Tifa nodded. "Yes."

"It's fairly simple," He said, "I wanted to make sure you were familiar with the area before I sent you out."

"I'm not really," She admitted.

"Alright, here," Angeal brought up a map on his monitor and pointed to the main building, "You'll be taking the train to Sector 5. From there, head north along the main street until it comes to a T, where you should take a left. Follow that and you will eventually come to the old train terminal – most fiends will not have wandered that far, but once you go back in a few hundred yards, they'll be everywhere."

Tifa stared at the map for a moment, brooding. "Ummm," She hazarded, "so, am I supposed to kill them all, or…"

"No," He hastened, "We haven't yet come up with a suitable solution to exterminating them – they seem to come back, no matter what we do, but it does keep their numbers down so that they stay away from the populated areas of the city."

"Okay," She murmured, frowning. "Is that all?"

"Actually," Angeal straightened and a shadow cast over his face, "I have an ulterior motive in sending you there that I'd rather the high command not be in on – I'm sure you've noticed that word of the resistance has diminished quite a bit since the reactor incident last week."

She nodded.

"Well, I am firmly convinced that they do have a route into the upper city that we haven't found and that they are more than capable of handling the fiends in the abandoned railway, despite what others might believe", His jaw clenched ever so slightly, "So I'd like for you to have a look around with that particularly in mind, just in case."

"Of course." Tifa replied and tried not to sound like she'd rather be doing anything _but _that. All in all, she did a fairly good job, or at least he didn't seem to notice.

"It should take a few days." Angeal advised, "I'll expect a report by Friday."

"Okay."

"Well then, good luck. You're dismissed." He sat back down at his desk.

Tifa stepped out into the hall and was confronted with a not so friendly, but familiar face. She almost wished it was Sephiroth again. At least when he was sane he was reasonably well-behaved.

"Hey flower-boy," He said. Dev – that was his name.

Tifa blinked, confused. Realization dawned as she thought back to last night – she had brought the last two flowers with her. Perhaps walking through Shin-Ra HQ dressed in uniform and holding two daisies wasn't the wisest of choices, but she hadn't wanted to crush them.

_What to do, what to do. _A thought struck her.

"That's right," She said, "I like men too."

The SOLDIER stopped whatever he had been preparing to say and gaped at her. He recoiled as if he'd been stung, did a funky little twitch, and pointed a trembling finger at her, "Fucking homo – I knew it, stay away from me." And he ran off.

Tifa smirked dryly. She should've done that earlier – would've saved a lot of trouble.

What she never realized was that the door to Angeal's office was still open behind her.

She made a quick stop at the lockers to pick up her Sniper rifle before heading to the station to hitch a ride on the train. It was strange how differently people reacted to her now that she was in uniform. They always seemed to be watching her indirectly. For the most they gave her a wide berth and went about their business.

She just wasn't a Sephiroth cover-boy she guessed. Speaking of cover boys, there was a gigantic poster of his face on the wall at the Sector 5 station. How she hadn't noticed that before she didn't know.

There was a group of girls huddled beneath it giggling. Tifa made a face and felt the sudden urge to rip it down into confettis sized pieces. Honestly, he had long hair. What did they see in him?

A SOLDIER in blue passed her with a stoic nod. She returned the gesture and continued on. At least out here there was a small sense of camaraderie.

The abandoned railway was all the way on the other side of Sector 5, which is probably why she hadn't noticed it the day before – she hadn't gotten that far. All the lights were dead and despite there being sunlight from above, it seemed perpetually cast in shadow. Part of that was due to the arrangement of the buildings and the street, which ran directly east to west, so during most of the afternoon the sun was blocked.

All of the buildings looked to be abandoned, their windows dark, many of them broken. Shattered glass was strewn across the cobblestones and old refuse collected in the sewer drainages. In the distance something shrieked.

Tifa's grip tightened around the stock of her rifle. In all likelihood it would be useless here. There were too many obstructions, railcars scattered all over the place, and not enough open ground to get a clear shot before anything bent on her blood reached her.

She was perspiring heavily by the time she reached the first of the old trains. Her bones ached from the chill that presided over the air, as if something had sucked the life out of it. Periodically the silence was broken by a sudden crash or a sigh of wind that didn't sound quite right,

Her first scare came when something sleek and black sailed through the air in front of her and landed loudly on the top of an old tin garbage can. Tifa yelped, jumping back, and raised her fists in defense.

Nothing happened.

She blinked. It was a cat. A green-eyed, shorthaired, black cat, whose ruff was significantly raised as it stared at her with equal amounts of alarm and hostility. They maintained this stalk-still, stunned exchange for a few more seconds before Tifa could finally relax enough to chastise herself for being ridiculous.

Some SOLDIER she was turning out to be.

The cat's tail slowly lowered to a more docile position and it leapt to the ground. He sized her up slowly, as if unsure of her, and made a pass at her leg with just the faintest of contact. Then he circled around to face her, and did it again

Tifa looked down at it hopelessly. He wasn't very old so far as she could tell – not full grown. "What are you doing in a place like this?" She asked and tentatively reached down to scratch behind his ears.

He leaned into her hand with an excited purr.

"Shoo now," Tifa said and gave him a little pat on the haunch. "I've got work to do."

The can sat back, gave its paw an idle lick, and glanced up at her, as if to say, "Pardon me? I didn't hear that."

Tifa sighed and turned away. He'd get the picture once she got in a fight and there was real danger. She really didn't expect him to hang around anyway.

But as the fates would have it, her very first step the cat was bounding along at her side. "You're not going to like this." She warned. "I can't imagine ghouls have much to eat around here – I'm sure they wouldn't object to some cat."

He never even twitched. There was nothing for it. She forged ahead reluctantly and met the first resistance coming around a railcar that had been knocked on its side by who knows what.

Tifa had to take a step to the side to avoid running into the ghoul's back. A raunchy smell assaulted her nose, but the creature was too preoccupied to notic her. She landed a power shot to its spine and the creature collapsed dead before it even hit the ground.

A second ghoul charged in from the left. She fended it off with a series of punches, stepped back to catch her breath, and exhaled loudly. She coughed, covering her nose. The smell didn't improve with death.

Ghouls were wretched things with long sharp teeth and a mane of greasy black hair down the back of their necks. Their legs and arms were spindly, their bodies painfully thin. Gray, mottled skin stretched over the sharp edges of protruding bones. And their eyes were entirely mad.

It came at her again and this time she was able to finish it with a quick jab to the throat that broke its windpipe. She straightened with satisfaction, admiring her handiwork, and dusted her hands. She had to give it to Chaka – he was a good teacher. A week ago she probably would've been flailing all over the place.

Something shrieked…right behind her.

Tifa whirled around just in time to see the shadow charge and then pass through her. Her eyes opened and she couldn't see. She gasped, panic sizeing in he limbs as she staggered blindly to the side and bumped into something hard and cool. Her muscles tensed and she became very still.

Everything had some manner of chi, even the undead and supernatural. If she concentrated hard enough, she would be able to sense it. Never mind that this sort of thing was hugely advanced compared to what she was learning. This was all she had to work with.

A loud hiss emanated from behind her and she twisted around, side stepping as she did. She felt it at the last moment, reached out, and grabbed the shadow by its core as it curled around her. Her skin turned to ice, but she clenched her teeth and crushed it in her fingers. The shadow went out with a 'poof'.

Her heart was doing double time as she sank to the ground and waited for the blindness to dissipate. It took several minutes, by which time she had acquired a furry companion on her lap. His fir was surprisingly soft as she drew her fingers through it.

She set him aside then and got to her feet, rolling her shoulders in an attempt to regain some confidence. She didn't really feel it, but she was alive and it wasn't so bad. The ghouls weren't difficult foes and she would be on her toes a bit more next time she saw a shadow.

Not that they were the only things inhabiting the place. There were all manners of dark creatures lurking around here. How did they get here– that's what Tifa wanted to know. They were unnatural things that shouldn't have been able to sustain themselves, but then…she was picking up on there being a large population of rats, judging by the number of bones she was seeing.

The cat remained steadfast at her side as she roamed deeper into the abandoned station.

The area was bigger than she expected, but then Angeal had mentioned it taking several days. She hardly took three steps before something else came leaping out at her, which didn't help matters any. By mid-afternoon her nerves had become inured to the surprise attacks and she no longer levitated a foot of the ground every time something screamed.

She could deal with the screaming. The fiends here were a lot farther beneath her skill level than she thought they would be so there was nothing to be afraid of – she kept telling herself that. It was about the only pleasant surprise she got that day, aside from her furry companion.

It was the poking around into every nook and cranny that got to her. Tifa didn't like dark places a great deal and for a very practical reason; she couldn't _see_ anything. She had to assume that Angeal expected her to check everything, from the buildings to the railcars, and even possibly the sewers themselves, in search of the resistance. She wasn't quite ready to take that initiative just yet

So far there had been no sign of them.

Every part of her was sore at the end of the day. Despite all the vigorous training, she still wasn't used to fighting for so many hours non-stop. She was also hungry. Angeal hadn't mentioned at what time she should stop, so she had made sure to keep at it until at least 7 before calling it a day.

By the time she reached the train she was so tired that she fell asleep the moment her bottom hit the cushioned seat. She awoke to the feeling of something heavy and warm draped across her legs. Her eyes opened abruptly and she glanced down in surprise.

The cat peered up at her through half lidded eyes and lazily flicked its tail.

"How did you get in?" She asked, stunned. Had she been so out of it that she hadn't notice him follow her? Surely the guard would have mentioned something about a cat jumping on the train?

His eyes had gone close again and he contently ignored her.

"I can't take you with me." Tifa protested. "I'll get in trouble."

…even if Sephiroth had his own set of pet mice running amuck in his office and no one seemed to mind. There was something to be said for being the "General". You basically got to do whatever you wanted.

Tifa was suddenly waylaid by the vision of a black cat stalking Sephiroth's mice and very quickly removed the offending party off her lap. "You have to go back home." She said.

The train came to stop outside Shin-Ra HQ. Tifa cast a beleaguered glance at the feline and got to her feet. The cat promptly jettisoned off the seat and zoomed past her. He was gone the moment the railcar's door opened.

Tifa's sighed as she stepped down onto the concrete. Three SOLDIERs were waiting to board the train, all giving her a wide birth as they passed. She didn't think to wonder at why. She was too busy looking for where the cat had gone off to, but it was nowhere to be seen.

She made one last cursory check before giving up and heading inside. It was getting along to 8 p.m., which meant that she missed dinner again. Fortunately, she'd stocked up on a few groceries during her foray into the city the other day.

When Tifa arrived at her room, there was a black cat sitting next to her door. She stopped. She stared. She blinked dazedly.

_Not possible. _And yet, the he was still there, peering up at her with innocent expectancy.

Tifa rubbed her eyes under the visor and blindly felt for the control panel with the opposite hand. The door slid open and the cat bounded in. She followed more slowly behind, dropping the helm to the floor as she meandered towards the bed, where the cat had already made himself at home.

"Right." She sat down for a moment and idly stroked the cat's fur. "I can see that kicking you out won't work."

How on earth was she supposed to explain this? Tifa massaged her scalp with her nails and stood up. There was a sandwich with her name on it waiting in the mini fridge – stomach first, future cat ownership later.

The key card was lying on the countertop when she retrieved her sandwich. It had been sitting there for over a week, untouched and for all practical purposes nonexistent. Her eyes lingered on thy shiny plastic surface and its professional lettering. She had not thought about it again since the day she swiped it from Hojo's office and she was reluctant to think about it now.

Thinking meant headaches because she didn't know what to do. Doing meant taking risks that she wasn't prepared to take.

Getting onto the restricted floors was one thing, but it wouldn't help her bypass the security wall that would no doubt be in place on every computer on the network. That meant Hojo's computer was out. It wouldn't help her break into individual offices either. They would all be locked and she would have nothing to show for her effort.

Everything in Shin-Ra was dependent on electricity though. That was the key. All she needed was a thorough power-outage.

Tifa took a bite of her sandwich, chewing it slowly as she lifted the thin plastic key in her hand and flipped it over. It was a basic pass card for using the elevator and nothing more. The corner of her mouth twitched in a frown – a stale victory at that. Unless she could find an office that was miraculously unlocked, it was all but useless.

Her curiosity jumped. Did Sephiroth lock his office? Judging by its common state of neglect, she wouldn't be half surprised if he didn't, but there wasn't anything of value in there. Not anything that she was looking for at least.

She tossed it back onto the counter with a sigh and finished her sandwich. Maybe after she was through with her first assignment. It wouldn't hurt to do a little snooping.

* * *

**Author's Note: ** I think I hate it. Nothing really...happened, except for a few more character cameos. I have arbitarily inserted a cat into the story as well, because I like pets. GAAAHHH! I've been kind of busy lately. Studying ground school is somewhat mind numbing.

Please be gentle....sigh.


	8. Chapter 8

_**The Warrior**_

**Chapter 8**

_At long last..._

* * *

The soft feather's touch of fine hairs drew over her cheek with perfect accuracy. Her skin twitched, eyes scrunched in disturbed sleep. Another languid sweep and Tifa's eyes shot open, sputtering as cat hair clung to her mouth.

She angled her head away from the offending appendage, inadvertently allowing free access to the sensitive skin of her neck. Tifa sucked in sharply, swallowing a giggle, and trapped the free-wheeling tail, lest it unravel her into a heap of trembling laughter. With a sigh she lifted her head.

"I'm sorry," She said and gently rubbed behind his ears, "but I just don't think it's working out between us."

His head twisted around at her with a half-lidded expression of extreme pleasure. The world was his oyster and it did as he bid. Or so he thought.

Tifa pulled herself to a sitting position, doing her best not to disturb her companion, but all in vain. He sprung to his feet abruptly, two bugged eyes staring around drunkenly. She rifled for her clothes on the floor obliviously and stood up with a magnificent stretch.

Another scintillating day of clearing out the abandoned railway awaited her. Oh joy. She still didn't understand why the place had deteriorated so or why nothing had been built in its place.

Tifa made a quick pass through the shower, brushed her teeth and hair, and re-emerged into her living quarters. Meanwhile, the cat was curled contentedly on her pillow. She frowned slightly when she came to stand before the bed, hands on her hips.

"You can't stay in here." She told him. "There's no cat box."

An ear twitched and an eye rolled vaguely in her direction.

Tifa shook her head lightly and snatched her helmet off the floor. She took an apple from the fridge and stuffed it in her pocket before heading resolutely for the door. The doors had not even open completely before a streak of black launched past her into the hall, bounding away at high speeds.

"Hey!" She cried, but he had disappeared around the corner. Tifa groaned inwardly and gave chase. She rounded the same corner and bumped into an unsuspecting SOLDIER.

Blurting a hasty apology, Tifa dashed after the darting blop of fur. She saw the elevator doors up ahead and knew she'd never make it, but that didn't stop her from trying.

Tifa came to a disgruntled halt as she watched the elevator doors close on the smug feline rubbing up against the legs of the SOLDIER going up. Her shoulders sagged as they went out of sight and she leaned against the wall, deflated. There was a cat running rampant through Shin-Ra HQ and it was all her fault.

What if it discovered Sephiroth's _mice_?!

She punched the call button and waited. By the time another elevator had shown up, she wasn't the only person waiting. There were two other SOLDIERS standing with her, both of which were making suspicious glances at her when they thought she wasn't paying attention.

Her brow furrowed as they filed into the elevator. She couldn't help but notice that the other two stayed well to the other side from her. It was starting to make her nervous.

The elevator thrummed into motion and Tifa cast a furtive glance to her left. She caught one of the SOLDIERs jerking his head away. She huffed and crossed her arms. What _now_?

When they came to a stop and the doors opened, the two SOLDIERs were only too happy to vacate her proximity. Tifa stepped out after them, watching distractedly as they hastened away towards the cafeteria. She bit her lip and surveyed the hall for a darting feline.

There was no sign of him, not that she expected any. She couldn't be sure he'd even gotten off on this floor. Generally at this hour of the morning the only place a SOLDIER was headed was for food though, so it made more sense to look here.

It was five minutes past 6 when Tifa reached the cafeteria and poked her nose inside. She took a cursory glance of the room and upon realizing that she'd never find anything as small as a cat among that chaos, she left. If he wanted to get in a fix, that was his prerogative. He wasn't her responsibility.

She was just walking along when a door burst open from her left. Then something struck her on the side of the head before she could turn. Her knees buckled and hands groped menacingly at her uniform, dragging her away. A hushed exchange of words was going on above her, but her mind was too fuzzy to make them out. There were bright lights above as they threw her to the floor, jarring her.

A boot slammed into her stomach and pain lanced through her ribs, knocking the wind out of her. Someone wrenched her up by the collar and landed a blow to her mouth. Her tongue tasted copper as she fell to the ground with a groan.

For several long seconds nothing happened. Tifa blinked dazedly and dared to look up at her attackers. She grimaced; of all the places, they had thrown her into the latrine. Why didn't that surprise her?

There were three of them, none that she recognized. The leader was a 2nd class SOLDIER and his buddies were 3rds. He took a step towards her with an oafish grin and proceeded to unzip his pants.

Tifa jerked away, only to find her back pressed up against a white tiled wall. She froze, glancing between the three with a mixture of disbelief and horror. Someone started laughing and a nerve twitched in her hand.

"What? I thought you liked to catch, eh?" The leader sneered. "Take off the helm."

That provided some illumination on the situation, however disturbing, but Tifa was too busy trying to focus to dwell on it. The 3rds moved slowly, one going for her arms, the other her helmet. She reacted quickly, snapped the first one's arm at the elbow and slammed the second's head into the wall.

Both were writhing on the floor at her feet as she stood to face the leader.

It was the most unflattering pose she had ever seen, that excuse for a man standing there in limp-jawed terror as he fumbled with his trousers. If Tifa hadn't been so enraged and terrified she might have laughed. She took one look at his ashen face and decked him in the face. He hit the floor with a satisfying thump.

Tifa hastened from the bathroom, thoroughly shaken as she wiped the blood from her chin. She needed to get out of here. Now.

It never ceased to amaze her that two elevators managed to both be in use 80% of the time she needed one. She should've done away with it altogether and taken the stairs, but 45 flights was a lot of stairs. Fortunately for her, the wait was not long this time around.

The elevator doors opened. Tifa started to take a step, stopped, and jumped back with a startled, "Oh!"

Maybe not so fortunately after all...

Angeal stood opposite her, his arms encumbered by the lead weight of a disgustingly pleased cat as he gently stroked its silken fur. The cat's tail flicked back and forth as he peered up at her with the same smug grin he had worn when she last saw him. Her eyes cast at the floor to avoid her superior officer.

It was a second before he recognized her. "Ah, hello Fry." He said. "We seem to have acquired a pet…you…uh, wouldn't happen to know where he came from?"

A strangled moan crawled up her throat and lodged there as she tried to force it back down. Her eyes shut briefly and she released a breath through her nose, "I think he may have followed me from the abandoned railway, sir. I've been trying to catch him all morning."

It was strange that the one person who should ask her not to address him as sir was the one person she felt awkward _not _addressing as sir. How did that happen?

His brow furrowed as he gazed down thoughtfully at their topic of conversation, "I see. Well," He set the cat down gently, "He'll have to be given a name if he is so adamant to stay." He rubbed a finger across his upper lip as he considered the animal, "Soldier…that would be fitting, wouldn't it?"

Tifa looked back at him in surprise. Was he serious? She gazed from man to cat and back to man in consternation. "You…you're going to let him stay?"

"Let him?" Angeal chuckled. "I could no sooner stop the sun from rising. My mother had cats when I was young – pleasant, but utterly indifferent to the wants of humans."

"Oh." She looked down as the feline brushed up against her legs. A soft, nearly imperceptible sound of vibration met her ears and she tilted her head to the side. The cat looked back with what might be construed as a sultry eye before his head butted against her shin.

_Soldier, huh?_

Soldier suddenly went still, eyes fixating down the hall. Urgent voices drifted from around the corner. They appeared a few seconds later, two SOLDIERs helping a third whose arm was bent at an opposite angle of what it should have been. Blood trickled from the crooked and swollen nose of one.

Tifa inhaled sharply, whirled around, and dove past Angeal into the elevator. She frantically pushed at the 1st floor button as she looked up at the approaching trio and then to her superior officer. His brow furrowed darkly as he finally looked at her – really looked at her, for the first time.

"Fry—" Angeal began to say and his eyes bore into the visor of her helm intently. They traveled downwards, pausing on the bruised and swollen lip.

She shook her head emphatically as he went out of sight. When the elevator began its decent, Tifa sagged against the wall and slid her hands beneath the visor of her helm to rub her eyes. How much was it to ask to be left alone? The world seemed predominantly full of people who would rather irritate than let be.

A pert meow resonated from below and she looked down with a sigh.

Soldier peered up at her through bright, expectant eyes. He sat on his haunches, his tail flicking side to side behind him. A low rumble of a purr emanated from his throat.

Tifa gazed back hopelessly, "What?" She asked. "I don't have anything for you. This was your idea, not mine."

He circled her, his tail dragging ever so slightly against her trousers as he leaned in. Then he gave a firm push with his head. Another meow and he sat down next to her.

She allowed herself a small smile and playfully batted his tail.

Sometimes life's small pleasures were the only things that kept the world sane.

* * *

Tifa and Soldier parted ways on the bottom floor and she continued on to the station to hitch a ride on the train, back to the abandoned railway station. Today she would investigate the sewers and see what she could find there because there certainly wasn't anything noteworthy above the ground. And the heart of the resistance was below so it only followed that their route would pass through the sewers.

Clouds boiled in the sky with angry splotches of black on the walk there. There was a crack of thunder in the distance, hurled closer by a whaling wind. Tifa watched those clouds warily as she marched down the empty street. She wondered if Shin-Ra provided rain gear to its SOLDIERs because her uniform definitely wasn't water proof.

There was a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eyes and she stopped, glancing ahead of her. He was clad in his usual black, his sword sheathed at his waist. A long mane of silver hair whipped dramatically in the breeze as he stood with his back to her.

She bit down on her tongue and started to take a cautious step back the other way when his voice brought her up short, "You are late."

Tifa straightened edgily, shoulders square, "I beg your pardon, sir, I was not aware we were meeting."

"We were not." Sephiroth clarified and turned around. The soft intensity of his eyes sent a shiver up her spine. "I am here on my own business, but as we are to be in the general vicinity of one another, it would be prudent to work together."

Her spirits deflated with a quiet little spasm. "But—" _What _business, she wanted to know.

He was already walking away, assuming her obedience without at second thought. Oh did _that_ ruffle her feathers! How dare he treat her this way!

Tifa ran after him, nostrils flared, and fell into stride beside him. He fired a sideways glance that appeared distinctly annoyed. He probably wasn't used to flunkies walking next to him as opposed to behind.

"I'm going into the sewers today." She announced. "So unless you're planning on mucking around in dirty places, I'm afraid we're parting ways."

With that she stormed off ahead to where she'd spotted the manhole the previous day. It was exactly where she remembered it, to her relief. Sephiroth was still following her as it were, though she couldn't fathom why, but at least she wouldn't be making a complete fool of herself.

Tifa squatted beside the solid steel cover and drew her fingers across the weather worn surface. There were three evenly spaced holes around the rim for a crowbar that she didn't have. She rolled back on her heels, nabbing her lip between her teeth pensively.

After a moment's contemplation, she spread her feet, bending her knees, and reached forward with her fingers to take hold of two of the three holes. Her brown knitted in concentration as her body slowly unfurled, muscles flexing hard under her skin. A strangled sound squeezed between her clenched teeth as ever so slowly the lid inched upwards.

Sweat beaded along her for head. Tifa gasped for breath as she adjusted her throbbing fingers to grip the bottom lip of the steel cover. Her eyes clenched shut and she pushed with all her strength.

With a resonating clang and an exclamation of triumph, the manhole cover clattered to the cobblestones and Tifa stood bent with her aching hands braced against her knees, wheezing. She ran her hand beneath her helm, clearing the sweat before it dripped into her eyes. From behind her approached the deceptively light footfall of her nemesis, until he was next to her and admiring her handiwork.

His brow darted upwards in genuine surprise and he looked at her expectantly, "Shall we?"

Tifa dropped to the ground and dangled her legs into the impenetrable black hole. She found purchase on the ladder rung with her boot and carefully lowered herself into the hole before starting her descent. Once she was fairly engulfed in the darkness, Sephiroth followed.

The air wafting up from below smelled dank and rotten. Not surprising she supposed, considering what it came from. She inhaled deeply and let out a long, dejected sigh.

Sacrifices had to be made, right? At least she wasn't going alone.

Because being alone with her father's murderer was _so_ much better. Tifa gritted her teeth angrily and moved a little faster.

Ten feet down and the walls of the hole were no longer dry and innocuous. Her boot settled and abruptly shot out from under her. She yelped in surprise as her fingers tightened reflexively on the slippery bar to hold her weight so her boots could find solid footing again.

Above her Sephiroth had stopped, waiting for her to gather herself.

A breath or two later, Tifa slowly reached down for the next wrung where a thin layer of cool slime met her hesitant hand. She grimaced, biting back an exclamation, and willed herself to hold firm. If there _was _a route to the resistance's hideout through here, it wouldn't do to announce herself.

The bottom finally greeted her boot and she eagerly released the ladder, stepping back. She took a cautious sniff of her hands and wrinkled her nose in distaste before wiping them on her pant legs. It would be a miracle if she got the smell out of the leather in her gloves.

She lifted her visor and peered into the darkness, because it was too dark for him to see her and she couldn't see with it down. There was a trickle on her right and a wall on her left. Aside from that, she couldn't see anything.

Sephiroth dropped to the floor with a muted thud. He straightened, shifting his shoulders, and produced a flashlight. The beam flashed across her eyes, blinding her, and she covered her face with her hands, slamming the visor back down.

If he'd noticed anything amiss, he didn't say so.

The tunnel they were in spanned beyond in the deepening dark in front of them. She glanced around, taking stock of the area so that she might recognize it when she came back, though she probably wouldn't. Then she walked after him.

A pile of rat bones materialized at the edge of Sephiroths light. He stepped over it, avoiding the patches of green-brown slime that oozed across the stone floor, and she slowly made her way after him. Little sounds curled against her skin; a drip-drip somewhere, the scurrying of tiny feet over there, a clang in the distance.

Her mouth felt dry and the silence oddly disconcerting, "So just what business brings you down here?" She finally asked.

Sephiroth shined his light down several converging tunnels, his face drawn and weary. "I am not certain yet." He murmured.

Tifa puzzled that for a moment, to no avail, and decided to leave it at that. Cryptic comments really weren't her forte.

Another step and Tifa felt a hand suddenly firm against her stomach, shoving her back. She looked up, saw a pair of pale white eyes in the shadows ahead of them, and heard the feral scream as Sephiroth deftly removed its head. She was so engrossed in the act that she didn't notice the presence creeping behind her until it made an ungodly gurgling sound.

A strangled noise emerged from her throat as she whirled around. Her fist made solid contact with the creature's head, knocking it back, which gave her the space to finish it off with a well-aimed roundhouse kick. Its neck gave a snap and it collapsed.

She breathed in sharply as she squinted down at the body, hands trembling. "What _is _it?"

Sephiroth stepped beside her and, using the tip of the masamune's blade, prodded the prone form. Judging from the decaying state of its flesh and the milky eyes, it was a dead ringer for your standard movie zombie. Only, this wasn't a film set and that wasn't makeup.

Tifa made a face and took an unconscious step towards the man beside her. "That's disgusting."

"Quite." He agreed flatly.

Her brow furrowed, "What's a thing like that doing down here anyway?"

Sephiroth seemed to be contemplating that very thing and did not immediately answer. After a moment he turned away. "Hojo." He muttered.

Tifa stared after him, her face creased with worry.

A short while later they were attacked by a mutant rat. Its claws and teeth were covered in a glowing residue that looked distinctly unhealthy. Most likely it was a poison, the refuse of Hojo's lab maybe. Sephiroth took one look at her and stepped back, allowing her to break its neck with a swift downward kick.

There was an awkward pause and then Sephiroth cleared his throat, "Well done." He said and continued on.

Tifa felt a traitorous blush crawling up her neck.

Between the poisonous rats, zombies, and the maze of converging tunnels, they probably spent a solid four hours down there. She was lost – he was not. There were too many twists and turns for her to follow – except for the walls of concrete that acted as bracers, there was no separation between the sectors. Tunnels passed through them so that one could roam freely from one sector to the other without hindrance.

Roam freely and become instantly lost…

It would be perfect for getting around in the above sectors; a route from the slums that didn't require a train. If the resistance had that within their grasp, their access to Midgar was limitless, and with an extensive knowledge of the sewers, no one could navigate them better. Although how anyone could master this place Tifa couldn't fathom. Apparently Sephiroth had a tremendous sense of direction.

Shin-Ra had in its disposal enough people to scour the entirety of the sewers if need be. They would find Avalanche eventually if given the opportunity, but finding evidence that was concrete enough to launch a widespread search of that magnitude was practically impossible. And they probably just didn't want to.

Tifa stopped to take a rest and took a seat on the driest surface she could find, which happened to be a pile of old sandbags. They were old and riddle with holes, but it was better than sitting on the stone.

She sighed, drawing her legs up to sit cross-legged, and stared blankly into the darkness. Sephiroth had not gone another five steps before noticing she did not follow. He stopped and turned around expectantly, the light shining in her face.

"My feet hurt." She said and left it at that.

He said nothing, but walked slowly back towards her and leaned his back against the barest section of wall he could find.

It was going on 3 p.m. according to her phone. Chaka had left her a message.

_Hey, what's up? Enjoying your first 'assignment'? I know, it sucks, but we all have to start somewhere. _

_Something really freaky is going on up here. Can't divulge too many details here though. Let's just say I'm freezing my damn ass off –I don't do winter._

_Kick some ass for me,_

_Chaka_

Tifa smiled faintly as she shut her phone. He would fill her in later. She sat back and lifted her head. Sephiroth had moved and was standing at the edge of the stone path, looking down at the water.

Curiosity piqued, Tifa got up and went to look too. "What is it?" She asked.

He examined the water flow astutely, "It is rising, look." He pointed to the far side with the light, "The water is almost above the edge."

_Of course, _she thought. It had been threatening rain on the walk over. Evidently it was no longer merely threatening.

How high did the water level rise? She watched the flow curiously, until it occurred to her that the water could rise as high as it wanted to, so far as there was more being added to it. If the rain didn't stop, it would flood.

…and they would be in it.

Tifa cast a furtive glance towards the man on her left. Surely he knew what to do? "How far are we from the nearest maintenance hole?"

Sephiroth scowled pensively and the skin around his eyes suddenly tightened in alarm, "Not close enough."

That's when it came, the sound of thunder, and then Sephiroth was shouting for her to run. The words of protest died on her lips as she watched him sprint away and then her legs were moving of their own accord. She skimmed across the slick stone path as she rounded corner, lost traction, and went reeling off towards the water, only to slam into a zombie.

She bounced off with a grunt and the corpse fell into the water instead.

The roar throbbed in her skull even louder now, chasing them down.

It was the flow of water as it filled the passage. Her pace quickened with her heart – the amount of water it would take descending from above to make that kind of sound would flood this place in a matter of minutes, seconds even.

Tifa scrambled frantically after the inhuman man who was rapidly outdistancing her. She wasn't going to make it. It was careening down the tunnel behind her and would swallow her in seconds.

Sephiroth suddenly ducked through a dimly lit doorway on the right out of sight. Her heart rose for just an instant, but it was so far off for her still! She gritted her teeth as she slipped and slammed into the wall, pushing off with an anxious gasp.

There was water splashing under foot now, but the glowing light was closer. She didn't dare look behind her. It was bad and that's all she needed to know.

It happened in seconds. Sephiroth was reaching out a hand to her when the flood hit. It crashed over her head with painful force and she took in a mouthful of foul tasting water. Then there was an iron grip around her wrist, holding her against the ripping current.

Tifa grappled Sephiroth's wrist as she struggled to the surface and gasped for air. She looked towards him, saw the hard definition in his shoulders and neck, and knew that he couldn't hold for much longer. He was trying to pull her towards him when their eyes met under torchlight and she realized that something was terribly wrong.

The rushing water became mute and the air was still. He stared at her in startled confusion, for her helmet was gone and dark hair clung to the soft angles of her face and the gentle contours of her neck. But her eyes – they were haunting and familiar, and distinctly female to the man across from her.

In the fit of panic that followed she did the only thing she could think to do. She ducked her head under and wrenched sharply from the hand that held her. It was all it took; she was spiraling free almost instantly.

The world rapidly whirled away from her.

Tifa knew not up from down as she was hurled down the passage. The water was frigid and the walls of the trench ruthless. She flailed her limbs, trying to maintain some semblance of control over her trajectory, but it was useless.

Her stomach became so painfully taught with fear she thought she might burst. It was chaos inside and out, but through that came the bitter realization that she was going to die and that she actually _regretted _letting go. Because somewhere in the back of her mind a little voice was speaking, _"He was going to save you."_

And despite everything, in the deep of her soul she cried, _"I wish he had."_

It was several numb moments later that a very subtle but substantial change brought Tifa's mind reeling back to focus. The current was slowing down. She floated back to the surface on the easing stream and hungrily swallowed fresh air.

There she saw the light flickering off the passage ceiling just downstream. With her hope renewed, Tifa threw herself into the current and made for the side. She could see a landing up ahead and a stairwell that was mostly submerged in water, but it was shallow.

Her hands caught the edge of the stone and used it as a pivot point to swing her legs around and brace them in the opening to the stairwell. She came to a tenuous stop and awkwardly shoved the rest of her body into the undisturbed pool so that she could get her feet under her. Then she climbed out, her boots sloshing through the thin inches of flood water that covered the outside path, and stopped to lean against the wall.

Then the smell hit her. She vomited for a full minute, until there was nothing left in her stomach to get rid of.

A sour, oily substance coated her mouth. She coughed and spat until her throat was raw, and still the taste lingered. When the nausea had dissipated, Tifa straightened to examine her surroundings.

There were two torches burning on either side of a doorway at the bottom of a short staircase. Taking a closer look at it, Tifa determined that it was probably another one of the transition corridors that passed from one sector into another, although it looked different from the other one's she'd seen, and there certainly hadn't been any torches in the previous ones.

But there had been one where she'd last seen Sephiroth, before being swept away.

She stopped in the doorway and considered taking one of the torches, but decided against it. There was a wooden door at the top of the stairs. It wasn't locked so she stepped through into the passage beyond. Another torch was burning just down the way.

Tifa headed towards it cautiously, eyes and ears on alert. If there were lit torches, that meant there were people somewhere here. People that she strongly suspected were part of the terrorist group known as AVALANCHE.

The wall to her left suddenly moved and Tifa jumped back, startled. It started out as just a twitch really, and then it was a slow, grinding motion inward and to the side. She barely had time to move let alone think and it was already too late when 'Hide!' finally got through her brain.

A man stood across from her.

Silence descended upon the passage. They stared at one another in stunned silence at first, sizing each other up. That was all it took and their eyes widened simultaneously. Their voices blended together to shatter the moment of hesitation,

"Johnny?"

"TIfa?"

Tifa made a hysterical sort of half laughing sound. Johnny flashed a lopsided, albeit confused, grin. The silence returned in full force.

Here she was drenched in Midgar's refuse water (it was a wonder he even recognized her at all) and sporting a Shin-Ra second class SOLDIER uniform sans helm. And here was Johnny, someone Tifa swore up and down was dead after the Nibelheim massacre, evidently in the hire of AVALANCHE. Awkward was one way of putting it.

Johnny was the first to recover. His nose wrinkled, "What on earth happened to you?" He asked and his brow furrowed in confusion at her attire, "and why are you wearing _that_?"

Tifa expulsed a gust of air and frowned, "It's a long story." She hedged, "but I swear this is not what it looks like."

"Of course not!" He insisted firmly. "I know you'd never willingly serve those murdering bastards, not besides which, I've never seen a woman SOLDIER."

"And there isn't one, as far as they know. Or did…"Her voice trailed off despondently. What was she going to do now?

"Listen," Johnny started to say and made a cursory check of the passage. He averted his attention back to her, one hand slipping easily around her waist to rest lightly on the small of her back as the other removed the torch from the outside wall, "Come inside, we can talk easier that way and won't risk being seen."

Tifa nodded hesitantly as she was lead into the tunnel. The door shut behind them with a soft groan and they were in the dark, but for the crackling flame that illuminated a few feet of floor in front of them.

"This way." He said and took her by the hand.

It was not like the other passages she had been in. The walls were roughly hewn, as if it had been carved out with pickaxes and explosives. Broken stone littered the floor too. Tifa got the impression that this hadn't been there for that long – a year or two at the most maybe.

The passage eventually widened out into a corner, which was illuminated again by torchlight. Giant slabs of steel were positioned on either side of the mouth of the adjoining passage. Narrow slits had been cut out of the steel at shoulder height, slaughter holes for maintain a defense.

This was a siege point. There were crates and other various storage devices positioned towards the back of the space. A group of people could hold this tunnel for hours with enough ammunition and she guessed what the crates were for.

"Quite the set up you have here." She commented lightly.

Johnny grinned back at her, "You haven't seen anything yet. Come on."

They entered the adjoining corridor and continued on. It spanned for a solid fifty yards before widening into another siege point. This one was bigger than the last and the slabs of steel heaver, wider. There were more crates and boxes, probably containing weapons of some kind. A fridge was in the left corner and a deck of dirty cards sat on a wooden table in the center of the room with three chairs stationed around it.

What caught her attention was what lay beyond that however. There was a crude metal gate about shoulder height and spanning between the walls of the stone on either side. Beyond it was a massive piece of steel tubing, twenty feet in diameter, descending below.

When she walked up to the gate and peered across, she could see more of the plate foundations. It was both impressive and frightening. To think that this was all that kept the plates from crashing down on the slums. They might have been thick, but all it would take was a bomb to obliterate it.

Tifa shivered.

There was a makeshift elevator on a pulley system suspended at the edge where the passage ended and there was nothing but air. That would be how they were making the transition from the slums into the upper city sewers. If they were as smart and well-informed as she was beginning to think they were, they would have more than one of these too.

Johnny went to the refrigerator and pulled out a beer. He glanced over his shoulder at her. "Want one?"

She was on the verge of declining when she recalled what had recently been in her mouth. "Yes, please," was her immediate answer. He tossed her a can, which she opened and proceeded to chug down with a vengeance.

Johnny shook his head with a snort of amusement, "That is gonna be hard to wash out." He said ant took a seat at the table.

Tifa savored the watery beer as it cooled down her throat, drawing away the awful aftertaste of sewage water. Never had a cheap beer ever tasted so mercifully delicious. She sighed and set the empty can down, casting a hesitant look at her old friend.

"Take a seat." He encouraged with a half smile.

"Are you sure?" She asked dubiously. "I won't pretend that I'm not the most disgusting thing the cat dragged in."

He waved her off dismissively, "You get used to the smell." He said.

Tifa smirked dryly, but pulled out a chair and sank into it in quiet relief. She was so tired.

"So," Johnny leaned back and took a swig of his beer. "What's the story?"

Thirty minutes later and he was leaning forward at the edge of his seat, and peculiar gleam in his eyes. Then he was removing the single sideband radio from his waist belt, switched it on, and set it on the table. He sat back and took another long drag from the can.

She had told him almost everything, most importantly about her intentions to work on the inside for AVALANCHE if they would accept her.

"I think," He began, "That you will be the next coming of the Cetra when the big guy hears about this."

Tifa laughed nervously, "I don't know about that. My access to the building is still very limited, but I'm willing to do whatever I can."

A distorted voice came through the radio and Johnny picked it up.

"Yo," He said.

"…_did ya… …passage?" _

"Yeah, yeah." He answered, tipping his beer back for another swig and swallowing it fast. "It's floodin' pretty nasty out there."

"_…close…door…?"_

"It's sealed off. I don't think the water level will ever get that high anyway." He shrugged.

The response was too garbled for Tifa to pick up. Apparently it was the end of the conversation though because Johnny voiced a gruff goodbye and signed off. His expression turned calculating as he considered her.

"I'll go down and talk to him once my shift is through, arrange for a meeting." Johnny explained. "Can you make it back tomorrow?"

Tifa chewed her lip pensively before giving a nod, "I think so, yes."

"Awesome." Johnny stood up from his chair and gave her a quirky grin, "Don't you worry – I'll vouch for you. He'll listen."

Tifa smiled sincerely, "Thank you, Johnny. I don't know how I would've done this without you."

"Hey, no problem." He answered and his eyes brimmed with that same old adoration they always had. "Anything for you, Tifa."

Something akin to guilt twisted in her gut, but she couldn't afford to let that get in her way. This was her best chance of getting in contact with AVALANCHE'S leader in a peaceful manner with as little suspicion involved. She couldn't say no.

"Well," She said and got to her feet, "I better get back before they send someone to come look for me."

"Good luck getting out." He said, "I wouldn't bet on the sewers being clear yet. If the rain ever stops it should drop down pretty quick, but…"

"It's low enough that I can walk along the outside." Tifa replied. "Not that it matters – I'm already thoroughly disgusting anyway."

Johnny laughed, "Take it easy girl." He said and his expression turned serious, "You're walking a dangerous rope there."

"I know." She answered quietly, and then she was on her way.

Tifa had re-emerged into the main tunnel where she had surfaced earlier when Sephiroth rounded the downstream corner onto the landing where she stood. They both came to a sudden halt upon spotting the other. Her heart shuddered in her chest and she back-stepped, ready to bolt.

"Wait!" His voice arrested her sharply.

She couldn't breathe.

Sephiroth held up what appeared to be her lost helm, "You'll need this." He said.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **It's been a while...but at least I did finally finish another chapter! I had to do a major overhaul on this one because I hated the original. The next one needs some work too, but it shouldn't be long before I get it out. I've got a month before I start my summer work...okay not quite a month. I've almost got my private helicopter license, so THAT will be out of the way. And since I've passed my ground school test, I don't have to take up so much time studying for it, which means I should be able to write more. I haven't written in months, literally. It's depressing.

Johnny...anyone remember him? He was from Nibelheim originally, was floating around the Midgar slums in the game if I'm not mistaken. So technically he's a canon character and he's serving me a valuable purpose, haha.

Happy reading and review writing,

Faerlyte

* * *


	9. Chapter 9

**_The Warrior_**

_Yes, it's finally here. _

* * *

**Chapter 9**

Tifa stared incredulously. The helm sailed towards her, eliciting a jump as it hit her in the hands. She bobbled the offending object before securing it under her arm.

Her eyes lifted alertly, but Sephiroth had not moved and gave no indication of doing so. He was light years away, but for a small flicker of something across his face. A memory perhaps, but it couldn't be placed and he merely looked through her.

"Why?" Tifa demanded. "Why protect me?"

Sephiroth's gaze returned sharply to focus, sucking the breath right out of her as she was suddenly swallowed in his full attention. His shoulders rose and fell with a lazy sort of indifference, "Why not?"

She blinked, uncomprehending. "Because—" Tifa cast about for _something_ to make sense. "You're not supposed to protect me."

He leveled her with condescending scowl, "According to whom?"

Her brow furrowed angrily, "According to me!' She snapped.

The retort bounced harmlessly off his implacable lack of interest, "A pity, then, that yours is not the pivotal judgment on which my decisions are made." He returned and set off down the passage.

She fumed at his back before running after him with a shout, "Hey!" He stopped at the sound of her voice and turned, facing her as she skidded to a halt with barely a foot to spare between them. Her breath hitched in her throat and what she was about to say died on her lips.

Sephiroth arched an elegant brow, "Yes?"

Tifa's eyes dilated, "I…you're not going to tell anyone?" She couldn't stop staring at his mouth, a fact he was bound to notice.

His expression seemed weary and he contained a sigh, "No." He said, and he _did _notice.

"Why not?" She asked breathlessly. "You know better than anyone what the ramifications for hiding a spy must be."

"_You_ a spy?" He inquired with a half smirk.

Her lips thinned as she debated whether or not she should be insulted by that. "Well I could be!" She stated indignantly.

Sephiroth turned back around and resumed walking. "Even if you are, I'm finding it difficult to be very concerned about it."

Okay, _now_ she was insulted. "What's that supposed to mean?!" Tifa asked shrilly and quickened her step to keep pace with his longer stride.

He lifted a gloved hand to his temples, "It _means _that I couldn't care less what becomes of Shin-Ra."

All her righteous anger deflated in a puff of smoke with a wispy little, "Oh." She watched the ground go by under her boots, brooding. "I see."

"No, you do not," was the austere reply.

A thought occurred to her, "You don't seem very surprised."

There was a long, distinct pause, punctuated by the rhythmic gait of his boots on stone. "About what?" His tone was bored.

"About the fact that I'm a woman." She clarified. "I thought I'd been doing a fairly decent job of hiding it up till now."

Sephiroth made an inarticulate sound, "If I'd not been suitably surprised you would never have broken my hold back there. As it were, you're lucky to be alive."

"Luck is not the word I'd use…" She muttered, despite knowing that he was probably right, and that she really didn't _want _to die.

A subtle twitch of his head was the only indication that he'd heard her, but she didn't notice and he chose not to call her out. "People will see what they expect to see." He said.

"Do you?" She implored.

"I don't really give a damn."

Tifa scoffed, "I don't believe that." And nearly ran into his back. She recovered with a quick back-step and peered up at the man in the dark – there was a faint glow in his eyes that made her shiver, she didn't know why.

Sephiroth's gaze sharpened intently, "And why not?"

Her hands went to her hips, "You're still here aren't you?"

"Ah," He gave her an indulgent smile laced with sarcasm, "but you were just leaving I believe." Then he swept to the side, flourishing his hand towards the old rusted ladder that was behind him.

Tifa glared back at him coolly.

"Wouldn't want to invite any unnecessary question, now would we?" Sephiroth enquired suggestively. "Angeal will be awaiting your report with baited breath I'm sure."

Her shoulders squared in defiance as she spoke, "But I haven't finished—"

Sephiroth advanced a step, cutting the words short as they lodged in her throat. His breath tickled her cheeks as he towered over her, inviting a blush that spread from her throat to her hairline. When she tried to retreat, he pursued, until her back somehow bumped against cold steel bars and she gasped.

How had he cornered so smoothly without her noticing?

"Yes, you are." He advised.

Tifa nodded without thinking and her heart beat a little faster, but she didn't move. She had thought after all that had happened that he was incapable of causing her fear, but evidently she had been wrong. The sheer force of will that radiated from him was tangible to the skin, curling around her with a powerful grace.

A man like that was every sort of frightening. And yet, that ethereal gaze held her without fail, drawing her into the dark chasm beyond like a curious child, unwilling to give up on hope. Her thoughts floundered in his wake in ways that she'd never experienced and for one fleeting moment she wondered what it would be like to be surrounded by that sort of strength, to be embraced by a being so capable of destruction, and _not _be afraid, but be safe instead.

The silence stretched and somewhere an echo of steel on stone broke the moment. Sephiroth blinked, as if coming to his senses, and gestured sharply with his sword towards the ladder.

Tifa left in haste, slamming her helm back on her head, the warm sensation still stirring in the pit of her stomach as she scrambled up the ladder. Her mind whirled from the implications behind that traitorous feeling and she gnashed her teeth at it. The very thought left a bitter taste in her mouth.

She tried to ignore the dull ache in her fingers as she wrapped them around the frigid metal bars. Her under suit had absorbed so much water, she felt twice as heavy and cold. Only the constant exertion from climbing kept her joints moving.

There was no light, no indication that she'd reached the top until she felt with her hands the manhole cover that was in place above her. She gave it an experimental push and budged it only a little. Her breath trickled out tiredly as she sagged against the wall.

What was he doing down there she wondered? She would have to find out because she had a sneaking suspicion it wasn't company business.

Tifa sighed, dragging her mind from its preoccupation, and readied herself to try again at the manhole cover. She braced her feet, straightening so that her shoulder was pressed up against the underside of the slab of steel. Then she pushed.

Her legs burned for all their worth, straining beneath the great weight as it slowly inched upwards. She slipped her hands into the gap and gripped the edge, adding her arm strength. It lifted off easily after that and she was able to push it aside and climb out into an open street and sprinkling rain.

It was not an empty street. There were cars parked to the side and people watching as the uniformed blue SOLDIER crawled up out of the manhole and slid the cover back on. She was just in time to avoid the truck speeding down the road straight towards her.

She did not, however, avoid the spray as its tires struck a puddle and added insult to injury. Tifa bit back an angry word and looked down at herself with disgust. Her uniform really wasn't blue anymore now that she thought about it. It was more a putrid shade of green with a touch of mucky brown.

Judging by the variety of strange glances she was getting from the peanut gallery, they didn't recognize her either. Well, they could stare all they wanted. She was going back to HQ to take a shower and change her clothes.

Tifa started walking. It seemed to take forever getting to the train station. She felt a slight, but constant tremor in her bones that made each step sluggish. It was all she could do just to put one foot in front of the other and when she finally found herself boarding the train she could scarcely remember how she'd gotten there.

At least it was warm in the railcar. It sparked some life in her, though not enough for her to keep her eyes open a she settled in her seat. She ignored the dirty look the steward gave her as water streamed off her filthy clothes. A puddle gathered at her feet as she slept.

When the train pulled into Shin-Ra HQ Tifa was barely conscious. If it wasn't for the horn that regularly blew when coming into stop, she would have been there all night. She came to her feet with a start at the resounding blast and stumbled down the aisle half-dazed.

She made a small effort to wring out her clothes so that she wasn't dripping all over the first floor lobby. Not that anyone but the cleaning robots were ever responsible for mopping up, but she didn't want to carry the extra weight around or leave a trail of sewage water.

The receptionist that manned the desk after hours gave her a horrified glance as she passed but, seeing that Tifa was in no mood for chit chat, said nothing. Tifa lumbered up the stairs, her boots thudding particularly loud tonight. Then she was waiting at the elevators, because once again they were both in use – it never failed.

A minute later the doors popped open with a delightful ding, spilling out one very startled red headed Turk.

"Woah," He said, stopping short with a grimace. "What dung heap did you crawl out of?"

It was her first time seeing Reno of the Turks in person. She only knew it was him because no one else had red hair like that and she'd been listening in on conversations. He gave her a wide berth, wrinkling his nose, and disappeared down the stairs.

Tifa entered the elevator and dug out her log. She was almost afraid to look at it. To her great surprise it appeared to be undamaged by its lengthy dunk into sewage water. Top notch technology indeed.

She wiped the screen down a bit and logged in for the night, just in case. Ostensibly it was to let her superior officer know that she had returned unharmed and that all was in order, but whether Angeal checked these things was anyone's guess.

Then again, Sephiroth did say he'd be waiting for a report.

The elevator stopped twice, but no one had deemed their task important enough to risk stepping inside with her. She really must reek if it was that bad. They'd be waiting a long time.

Tifa was never more relieved to see her room when she slumped through the door. The night was young however, and she still had much to do. There was no time for rest and recuperation for a spy.

* * *

It was near midnight when Tifa emerged into the hall again, dressed in her old, but new, foot soldier uniform, and feeling a great deal cleaner. The other one would probably be out of commission for a few days and it was better that she disguise herself for what she was about to do.

She had made a promise that she now had to scavenge some manner of proof to keep. Whether she could get what she needed from the few places she had access to she didn't know, but she had to try. Some part of her had determined that Sephiroth's office was a prime candidate for investigation, even though she'd spent more than enough time in there to know that there was nothing in it worth investigating.

By the time the elevator came to a halt on his floor the lights were darkened completely. Her timing was just right. She crept along the wall quietly, her back slightly hunched.

Finding Sephiroth's office proved more difficult than she had anticipated. She ended up at a dead end, scowling at it accusingly. Everything looked different in the damn dark.

She tried the door to her right and was summarily stunned when it opened. Her eyes skimmed along the shadows of objects. It was a spacious room, containing only a desk, guest chair, and what she had to guess were two filing cabinets.

Whose room it was she had no idea, but she was here now and she might not get another chance like this, so she went in.

Tifa had no idea what sort of security measures were in place. She hadn't seen any cameras in the offices she'd been to, but that didn't necessarily mean there weren't any. She had to hope that whatever footage they revealed would be too limited to identify her.

There was a computer on the desk. The screen was black, but the light was on so she gave the mouse a tap. Immediately the screen lit up and prompted for username and password. The former was already filled in; Tseng.

He was leader of the Turks, if she remembered right.

Her eyes skimmed across the screen for a half a second longer and she turned her attention to the file cabinets. They were locked, though it was nothing a firm punch wouldn't pop open easily. It was a question of risk for gain. Was it worth it to break in if there was nothing of value inside?

She debated for a while, poking around the rest of the office in case something else jumped out at her. It turned out that there was, in the shape of a folder on his desk with the Shin-Ra logo pasted on the front. She'd carried many of similar nature over the course of the several days she had been cleaning Sephiroth's office. Most of them had yielded nothing of importance.

Tifa picked up the folder and flipped the cover open. Her eyes squinted down at the first page in the dark – there was a photo, but she couldn't make it out and had to use the light from the computer monitor. Her blood froze as the profile came into focus.

It was a picture of Zack.

A large red stamp had been haphazardly pasted across the page; TERMINATED. The date was only a few days ago. Her heart stopped.

How could that be? He had disappeared years ago. Denial fought against the jagged edge of failure and guilt. He'd been alive all this time, and now he was dead, while she toiled away uselessly in this wretched place.

She flipped through the pages, searching for the photo that wasn't there. Cloud had been with Zack the last she saw him, but that had been five years ago. Had they escaped and split up in that time? Or had Cloud never made it out?

There was no mention of him, which allowed her a queer sort of hope.

Tifa felt the familiar sting in her eyes as she set the folder back down. For a long time she didn't move. Her gaze remained fixed on the face from her memory.

It shouldn't have bothered her. She hadn't even known Zack, had ignored him for the most part because he hadn't been Cloud. Yet she remembered him so clearly now, and it _hurt_. She'd blamed him like she did everybody else back then, but he didn't deserve this.

How had the world become so twisted in its values that the ones who cared the most were the first to die? How had it all gone so wrong? It made her sick inside.

Tifa left Tseng's office quickly and tried not to dwell on what she'd discovered.

Sephiroth's office was not so hard to find on the way back. It was also unlocked. She slipped inside and crossed the room, heard a frantic squeak from the vicinity of her boot as she was taking a step, and did a two-and-a-half gainer to avoid a grisly accident with the furry little rodent scurrying across her path. Her hip slammed into the corner of his desk and Tifa stumbled around it with a whimper.

She really was not very good at subterfuge.

A fresh pile of paperwork had collected on the desk's surface. She wondered when he would get around to having someone clean it up again. Most of it would be useless to Avalanche so she really didn't know why she was here, except that his was one of the only offices she could get into.

It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that she was beginning to find him interesting.

Tifa rifled through the papers for a bit and lamented her lack of a flashlight. If she could actually see she might find something useful, but she was reduced yet again to squinting under the vague light of a computer monitor. She noted that Chaka's desktop had not yet been removed – had Sephiroth even noticed it?

The skittering of tiny feet and the nibbling of paper distracted her. Tifa slumped into the neglected office chair and leaned her head back, listening and wondering. What was she even doing here?

Her fingers slid up beneath her visor, pushing her helm back as she wove them through her hair.

She sorted through the stacks half-heartedly some more. When she was done with that, she perused his drawers purely out of curiosity. They were all empty except for one, and that one was so big as to make insignificant the square, flat little picture that lay face down in the bottom of it.

A name was scrawled across the back, _Lucrecia_, and a note: "I thought you should have this. —Angeal"

Tifa pried it off the drawer bottom and flipped it over in her hand. A woman smiled from the snapshot through eyes that didn't quite reflect her happy expression. Tifa frowned pensively. There was something familiar about her.

A sound from the hall sent a ripple up her spine and she dropped the picture. Five seconds later the office door was sliding open. Tifa dove under the desk, clipped her elbow on the edge, and bit her lip to keep from crying out.

The sound of footsteps, firm and deliberate, approached the desk. Then they inexplicably stopped, followed by a quiet outburst of, "Out of the way."

Tifa held her breath.

There was an irritated grumble, "I have nothing for you tonight." Sephiroth said. "Bugger off."

The footsteps resumed their course as Tifa peered up at the empty space above to the right of the chair in front of her, waiting grimly for her downfall. Another step and she could just make out the toe of his boot.

They were black leather, the edge of his trench coat swirling around his calf as he came to a stop beside the chair. He was looking through the papers on the desk, as if searching for something. Then he stopped. She could hear his measured breathing and a soft exhale as something drew his attention.

Tifa inched forward slightly, peaking out beneath the edge of the desk. He was gazing down at the chair with a peculiar gleam in his eyes. It was the kind of gleam that implied he might sit down, which could only end in disaster with her currently crammed in all of the leg space.

_Oh he can't be thinking what I think he is…_

Oh he was.

Sephiroth looked down at the chair, debating. Really, it was his chair and already Chaka had sat in it more than he had. Maybe, just one more time… He was on the verge of reaching a decision when his sanity reared its head with an acute feeling of embarrassment.

What on earth was he doing?

A gruff, dismissive grunt passed over his lips then and he turned away. "Idiot…" He muttered and then he was about to leave.

Suddenly he pulled up short. Tifa sucked in a sharp breath, biting her lip.

"What in the hell…?"

Tifa's eyes widened in abject horror as fear paralyzed every nerve-ending in her body. She couldn't move – there was nowhere to run if she could have.

There was a long pregnant pause and then a deep rumble, "Chaka."

Her brow furrowed. What?

"That boy needs himself a hobby…" Sephiroth muttered.

_Oh_. Well that answered her earlier question. He definitely hadn't noticed the desktop. She allowed herself a spell of relief, which was abruptly cut short when the mako glow of his eyes appeared below the edge of the desk, looking straight at her.

"And what have we here?" He asked.

Her lips parted as she pressed herself as far back as she could go into the desk and poured out nonsensical words, "I told him not to!"

He arched a single brow, "You know of this debauchery?"

Tifa winced, "There was nothing I could do."

"And you thought you'd slip into my office to fix it at—" Sephiroth glanced at a concealed watch before looking back at her pointedly, "12:45 in the morning?"

"That's right." She replied and inwardly cringed. If he didn't know her lie, than he was an even greater fool than she.

A sound strangely like a chuckle emerged from his chest. It was deep, almost melodic. "I see." He mused quietly and straightened. "Then I trust you'll have this 'fixed' before you leave here tonight."

Tifa couldn't fight the venomous frown that warred itself onto her face. That conniving bastard! She should've known better. "Can't you fix it yourself?"

"Why should I when there is such a…_charming_ volunteer so perfectly willing to do it for me?" He asked with more than a little cheek, and stalked away from the desk. "Careful you don't get caught. I'd hate to lose my personal assistant."

Her mouth fell open indignantly and she scrambled out from under the desk, "What do you mean?" Panic welled in her throat. He couldn't possibly intend for her to spend even _more _time with him!

Sephiroth was almost to the door when he stopped and let his head fall back with a sigh, "You are violating curfew, along with roughly fifty other regulations that would be grounds for your execution." He whirled around to face her. "Therefore, in exchange for your life you will be my assistant for as long as I deem it necessary."

Tifa felt her hands ball into fists at her sides. Then she did something that surprised her. "Then you're taking me with you when you go into the sewers."

He scowled. "I will do no such thing."

"I'm sure Shin-Ra would be pleased to know that you're protecting a spy." She returned icily. "And don't think I would't throw my life away just to see you burn."

His expression shifted at that and he considered her thoughtfully, "Yes, I believe you would." He agreed softly. "Very well. You may accompany me in the future."

Then he was gone, as if the conversation had never happened. As she stood there, Tifa had to wonder herself if she had been dreaming. He must have recognized her, but what was his game?

Her gaze drifted idly back to the screen of his computer.

Chaka's buxom babes were looking back at her with superficial grins and very little clothing. Tifa rolled her eyes and sat down reluctantly. She really didn't know much about computers. The basics she'd learned in her early Shin-Ra training, oddly enough. Everyone had to be decently efficient with technology, and decent was a stretch where she was concerned.

Her lips curved into a wicked smile. She'd fix it alright, she thought. She'd fix it quite nicely.

* * *

Sephiroth roamed the halls, quietly plotting Chaka's downfall. Perhaps he'd get a hold of the explicit magazines the boy loved so dearly. Then he'd post the pictures all over Director Lazard's office walls. Better yet, the _President's _wall.

But that wasn't near so interesting as his newfound infatuation with the girl he had, for reasons unknown to him, taken under his wing. He was not accustomed to being so felicitous towards others, especially of the feminine variety. There was just something about her that he couldn't let go of.

A noise from down the hall disrupted his train of thought and he stopped, waiting. The sound of footsteps approached with great care and attention. Not enough to get by him, but it was a noble effort.

Perhaps Professor Lowell's materia thief had come back for seconds. That would be perfect – Sephiroth could put an end to the scientist's incessant nagging.

Uniform blue of SOLDIER 3rd class flashed into view. The little thief barely avoided colliding with him and scrambled back at the last moment with a loud squeak. Sephiroth reached out and snatched the offending party up by the collar.

His SOLDIERs did not _squeak. _

"Name." He commanded.

There was a long pause, followed by an indiscernible mumble and a great deal of squirming.

"Now." Sephiroth barked.

"Murphy! Murphy!" The SOLDIER piped up, before adding a belated, "Sir."

_Murphy? _

Something sticking out from behind the SOLDIER's back caught Sephiroth's attention and he leaned over, eying it suspiciously. It was a blade of some kind – a very bizarre blade, like a giant shuriken. He'd never seen the like.

"What is that ridiculous thing on your back?" He inquired dubiously.

Murphy huffed, "Ridiculous?! Why you –" If he wasn't prepubescent, he was a female in drag. "I'm Wutai's greatest warrior!"

_Wait a minute… _Sephiroth's eyes narrowed a fraction and pain twisted in his gust. It was an old memory – something a friend had related to him once years ago about a devious little treasure hunter. Could it be…?

"Urp, I mean, uh, Wutai's _second _greatest warrior!" Murphy corrected loudly. "Cause ya know, that Yuffie is sooo powerful, I wanna be just like her, heh heh."

"I see." He returned flatly. "And would this_ Yuffie_ happen to carry an oversized shuriken on her back too?"

"N-no way!" But her voice was already faltering. "I mean, yeah, but, it's way better than mine. Can I go now?"

Sephiroth released the uniform and lifted a hand to his aching sinuses. "Go. Before I change my mind."

_That is for you, Zack…_

"Don't know what you're talkin' about." The so called SOLDIER chimed in as she bounded away.

Wutai's greatest warrior indeed... How did _she _get in here he wondered? Never mind – the people in charge were idiots. Shinra was crawling with a bunch of cross-dressing spies.

* * *

Tifa crept up the stairs in the dark. Using her stolen key card, she climbed to floor 71; urban development. There was every kind of map imaginable of the city of Midgar stored there – maps that would show the entire framework of the city, maintenance tunnels, sewage ways, _reactors_….

Everything was shut off on the floor, from the lights to the cleaning bots. It allowed her to rest a little easier as she roamed the halls in search of her query. There was a large room in the middle of the floor with a perfect small scale model of the Midgar kept current by whoever was in charge.

Tifa was turning the corner when a warm body hurled into her from the other direction. A yelp and an eep reverberated off the walls simultaneously as they bounced back from one another, both on the verge of bolting at the slightest provocation.

No one moved, hands twitching and breath held. They sized each other up; boots, uniform and helm. Long seconds passed. Nothing happened.

One pair of shoulders slackened an inch, then the other. A few more shaky breaths and the nervous tension trickled away into nervous relief. Neither was apparently apt to call out the other.

"Uh, I won't tell if you won't?" said the shorter and slighter of the two.

Tifa just nodded, though she scarcely understood what was happening.

"Watch where yer goin', huh?" The SOLDIER griped in passing and disappeared down the hall from which Tifa had come.

She stood there for a second or two, unable to move as she waited patiently for her brain to catch up with the proceedings. A single question hovered in the forefront of her mind.

What the hell had just happened?

* * *

Nibelheim. It was always Nibelheim.

_Why _did it always have to be Nibelheim_? _

There was something different though. The buildings weren't on fire and sun baked the cobblestones, but that wasn't it. It was that wretched girl_, _only she wasn't' a girl, she was a boy again, judging from the good sized lump in his pants. That wasn't right at all.

Of course not, to have otherwise might actually quantify a _good_ dream, and Gods forbid him having one of those.

The dream had taken it upon itself to make the boy's sex slightly ambiguous even then however. Far more ambiguous than the look he was currently giving him, which was more than just a bit unnerving. Not near as unnerving as finding himself tied to a stake in the middle of the courtyard with his coat and armor missing, but unnerving.

Sephiroth glanced down apprehensively and felt a tiny rush of relief that his pants were still there.

"I've been waiting a long time for this." The boy that was not a boy said in a tone dripping with sultry suggestion. He was circling the stake like the hunter.

Sephiroth felt something close to panic inching its way up his spine. "…what?"

The boy grinned with that full, girlish mouth as a stray lock of deep brown hair brushed his left cheek, "Oh I think you know." He said and flicked the lock of hair aside.

Deep profound horror clenched in his gut. This couldn't be happening, he reasoned. This _wasn't _happening. He hadn't been to Nibelheim in five years!

The boy began to approach, hips swaying gently like no man's ever could as he ran his tongue over his lips. He dropped his hands to his trousers slowly…

Sephiroth saw his life flash before his eyes.

His eyes snapped open to a cold, dark room as he lay on his bed and gazed up at an empty ceiling. He lifted his head slowly and examined himself – he had fallen asleep in his uniform. Nothing else was amiss however and that was the important thing.

With a sigh his head fell back onto the pillows. All things cinsidered, he preferred being burned alive.

* * *

She was under the desk. He knew she was under the desk, but she couldn't move to save her life, which it very well may come down to. Every time she tried it was as if there was some outward force pushing her back in. The harder she struggled, the stronger it resisted.

And for some inane reason, she was covered in sewage scented paper Mache.

Then he was standing above her, his coat and armor missing and daisies woven in his hair. Her eyes kept straying to his chest, along his shoulders and down his muscled forearms. Even in her own dream she was not allowed the luxury of controlling where her eyes roved.

He knelt to the floor beside her, eyes boring expectantly into her face, "Why aren't you cleaning my desk?" He asked.

Her heart stopped. What was he doing to her? Something nefarious no doubt, but it was making her skin shiver with delight.

"I'm hiding." She answered.

There were magazine clippings of naked ladies on the wall behind him. Her eyes widened – they were rubbing his quite naked body with fuzzy pink bunnies. She wrinkled her nose.

Sephiroth didn't move. One of the flowers was perilously close to tumbling free, but he didn't seem to notice. Then he was explaining to her about the papers on his desk and how if they just stuck them onto her it should clean up both messes at the same time. They could even use some of the perfumed magazine clippings to get rid of the smell.

He stood up with a horrified shriek suddenly. She turned her head towards the ruckus and saw Soldier the cat stalking the mice. There was a giant block of cheese the size of a chair on guard in front of the mouse hole.

Then Sephiroth was hacking off pieces of cheese with the masamune and trying to feed it to the cat to deter him from the mice. It seemed to be working, until the cat started talking in Angeal's voice.

Tifa was still under the desk covered in Shin-Ra white paper and trying to locate the town of Avalanche on the woman map of Midgar when she finally woke up.

* * *

Her eyes opened with an audible groan as she drew the back of her hand across her forehead. She stared up at the ceiling in steadfast refusal of her dream's suggestions. Sephiroth did _not _attract her at all. He was a murdering psychopath and that was the end of it.

She really needed to get to sleep earlier.

Satisfied with this conclusion, Tifa sat up and gazed about the room. It was going to be a very long day and she intended to get an early start

Getting dressed was making a stab at prolonging her day indefinitely however. Her under suit was wet. It did not pull on easily when wet. In fact, it didn't pull on at all.

Oh this was bad.

Tifa fidgeted around hopelessly for a moment before throwing the whole thing aside and running a hand through her hair dejectedly. This was incredibly bad. How was she supposed to get by if she couldn't put on her suit?

Her eyes strayed to the bag of her street clothes. She nibbled her lip thoughtfully. If she dressed up as someone else completely, she might make it out of the building with no one being the wiser. It was getting back in that would prove difficult.

_Well, _she thought, _that's why we have the stairs. _

She could get by for one day. Nobody knew what she really looked like, besides Sephiroth at any rate, because her profile picture had been forged, obviously. They wouldn't suspect a woman anyway – it wasn't like the building was completely off limits to civilians.

With that in mind she got dressed and packed her things. Then she took a deep breath and opened her door, staying to one side of it. She made a quick sweep of the hall, listened, and sprinted for the stairs. The breakfast hour had started 15 minutes ago so everyone was already gone.

Tifa dove into the stairwell and slammed her back against the wall as the door shut. The largest hurdle had been jumped. Now she just had to climb down 45 stairs. She straightened and gave her neck a twist – it could be worse.

Twenty minutes later she was walking away from Shin-HQ. She boarded the train and sagged into the first empty seat she could find. Air billowed out of her lungs and she closed her eyes.

She didn't stir until the automated sign flashed Sector 7 on the approach. The manhole she had come up yesterday had been in Sector 7 and was the closest to Avalanche's secret passage that she knew of. She was on her feet as soon as the train grinded to a halt.

It wasn't raining today she noted as she stepped down onto the platform. That at least was in her favor. Her gloves felt a little creaky and smelled like rot – not a particularly pleasant odor, but they would have to do until she could purchase a replacement pair.

A flash of gold brought her to a screeching halt. There was no reason for her to notice it. She'd seen blond people before, but her head jerked up so sharply she gave herself whiplash.

…Because it was a man with spiked blond hair sitting on the ground, his back propped up against a light post. He wore a SOLDIER first class uniform with a giant sword draped across his knees. There was only one person in the world she knew with hair that could defy gravity to that extent.

Her mind went numb. She stepped towards him uncertainly, heart hammering against her chest as she dared to hope. Her footsteps came to a timid halt a few feet away as the man turned his head and met her gaze.

Everything came hurling to a standstill.

His eyes were as blue as she remembered from that night when he had come to her, too late, but as brave as anything. They seemed to waiver, as if he wasn't sure of what he saw or if what he saw should be someone familiar. He looked at her, she looked at him.

Her throat tightened a little, "Cloud?"

The transformation was almost instantaneous, a bright reflection of light within the shadow, "…Tifa?"

She smiled broadly, kneeling beside him, and felt the world lift off her shoulders, if only briefly, "Gods above, Cloud, what happened to you?"

His brow furrowed slightly and he looked away, "Nothing much. It's been a long time, hasn't it?…seven years."

Tifa froze, a protest rising in her throat that didn't quite make it out. Didn't he remember that night? He had come to her rescue, like he promised.

"Y-yeah." She faltered uneasily. "It's been a while."

He smiled shyly, "It's good to see you."

She swallowed hard. "Do you have a place to stay?"

Cloud shrugged, "I just got here."

Tifa's mind was working double time as a sense of panic began to take hold. As happy as she was to see him, she was also facing an enormous dilemma. She was going to meet with Avlanache's leaders today – what was she going to do with him?

She'd already mentally crossed off any inclinations of leaving him to his own devices. Something wasn't right with him and she meant to find out, but she couldn't abandon her post yet. She had made an obligation to Avalanche that wasn't yet completed, or so she hoped.

"What are you doing here?" Cloud asked.

She jolted back to reality and blinked, "Oh," Her gaze faltered, "I was…looking for you, actually."

"Really?" He seemed surprised.

"Yeah…" She trailed off and her eyes lingered on the uniform he wore. "So, made SOLDIER, huh?"

A shadow cast over his face, "Not anymore." He murmured darkly. "I don't want anything to do with them."

Tifa inwardly winced. He wouldn't be pleased to hear about what she was doing, but she'd have to tell him eventually.

There was nothing else for it – she was taking him with her. It was the only thing she knew to do.

"Are you looking for work?" Tifa asked hopefully.

His eyes brightened considerably, "Yeah." He said. "I'm hiring out as a Mercenary for anyone who's paying."

She nodded, "I may know someone who'd be interested. Come on."

* * *

**Author's Notes: **I've started summer work with Fish and Game and I still haven't gotten my private helicopter license. ARGGHHH! But I've posted another chapter - my one claim to success at present, and it's really only a partial success since I've got about a billion more chapters to go. Ah, the joys of life. I've been rewriting everything like mad because I've had enough time away from this that I've decided I don't like what I originally wrote anymore.

Sorry about Zack, I'd like to keep him, but I'm fumbling too many characters in this story as it is.

Happy reading and reviewing! Take care,

Faerlyte


	10. Chapter 10

**_The Warrior_**

**Chapter 10**

_

* * *

  
_

"You must be joking."

Tifa squatted pointedly down beside the manhole cover and proceeded to lift. After a few seconds of watching and debating her struggle, Cloud jumped in to help her. Together they threw it aside and dusted their hands.

"No. I'm not." She emphasized breathlessly and started down the ladder.

Cloud followed, replacing the manhole lid behind them. When they touched bottom in the dark, he flicked on a flashlight and shined it on her. She could just make out the faintest of frowns on his face.

"What are we doing down here?" He asked.

Tifa plunged down the south facing passage, "The resistance has a route from the slums through the sewers. I found it yesterday."

"Doing what?" His footsteps were slow to follow.

"Just looking around." She hedged lightly.

A noncommittal grunt was all she received in reply, the shuffle of heavy boots across stone the only sound prevailing between them. There were fewer fiends roaming today Tifa noted, probably because of the flash flood, but the rats never seemed to diminish.

They made short work of whatever crossed their path and the uncomfortable silence continued.

Tifa had to glance back periodically to confirm that he wasn't just a figment of her imagination. Here she'd gone to all the trouble getting into SOLDIER, and he had the nerve to show up at a random train station. All of the sacrifice and risk she'd endured, for nothing.

The shadows cast by his flashlight seemed to haunt his face though. Something wasn't right with him. If nothing else, she could find out what, but there was more than just Cloud at stake now. She had an obligation to Avalanche too.

"Oh!" Tifa beamed and tried not to appear too surprised or relieved that she'd found the right place. "That's it." There was a torch set in the wall to one side of the doorway.

Cloud was silent but for his footsteps as they approached. She took the stairs leading up to the passage slowly and peeked into the corridor; empty. That could be either good or bad.

It did present an extra problem though. Where was the latch to release the door?

Tifa ran her hand along the wall, the uneven stones cool and moist beneath her fingertips. She reached for the old rusted torch holder and gave it a pull; it didn't budge.

"Damn." Her hands dropped at her sides.

"What is it?" Cloud appeared next to her, curious.

"There has to be a button…something to release the door." She murmured distractedly and started prodding random blocks. "It opened from the inside last time – someone was coming out."

Cloud's eyes seemed to puzzle that for a moment before he reluctantly stepped in to assist in her. His boot happened to punch a loose stone and there was a loud pop. They both jumped back as a grinding noise emitted from the wall and it began to shift aside, revealing the roughly hewn tunnel from yesterday.

Tifa squinted into the dim dark before taking a cautious step forward. She knew what was waiting at the first bend and she had no doubt that it was occupied.

"Hello?" Her voiced resonated off the walls with a faint tremor. She took another step forward, signaling for Cloud to stay put. There was no telling how they'd react to her having brought an uninvited companion.

She felt it before she ever knew someone had come in behind them. There were stars flitting above her head when she hit the ground on hands and knees. A scuffle broke out nearby and was quickly subdued when Cloud crushed down beside her on his knees, his face twisted in a painful grimace.

"Bring 'em forward." A voice called from the end of the passage.

Tifa's head lifted sharply as she was hoisted back to her feet on either side by two formidable looking men. One was dark skinned, the other light – neither wore anything from the waist up save for a green denim vest, leaving no doubt as to their physical strength.

She twisted her head around to check on Cloud. He seemed alright.

"Go on." Another man held the barrel of an assault rifle to Cloud's back. A red bandana bound his black hair, from under which hard brown eyes shifted towards her. "Best hope you come through on your promises."

Tifa set her jaw, giving Cloud what she hoped was an encouraging smile as they were herded down the tunnel.

They came to the first corner and a tall, thickly muscled dark man with a gun arm emerged from behind the right slab of steel. He was flanked on either side by two heavily armored guards - more stood off to the side and manned the defenses of the bunker with heavy artillery and explosives. The gun armed man towered over all them however and held himself so as to remind Tifa and her guest of it.

He examined Cloud from head to toe and the corner of his eye gave a subtle twitch. "Said nothin' about bringin' him." He indicated sharply.

"I'm sorry." Tifa relented. "I didn't know what else to do…I've been looking for him for months – it's why I joined SOLDIER in the first place—"

There was sharp intake of air from behind her and she hid a guilty wince.

"I'm sorry." She murmured. Her eyes remained on the gun-armed man. "I found him at the train station on my way here. He's looking for work."

"Is he now." The gun armed man gave a bored shrug and turned away dismissively. "Well, ya be comin' with us either way. Your funeral if yer jerkin' us off."

Tifa nodded, more to herself than anyone else.

Cloud was hesitating behind her. She glanced back at him with a silent plea. He gave a reluctant sigh and started after her, "You could've told me."

"We just met half an hour ago." She whispered.

He shrugged, but his eyes remained hooded.

They were lead to the end of the passage and shuttled into the makeshift elevator. Only four could ride at once, which meant her and Cloud, and two of them; the gun armed man and the one with the red bandana. Neither seem particularly concerned that the odds appeared even should a fight break out.

"So…Tifa, is it?" The dark man crossed his arms.

"Yes." She answered and tried not to fidget her hands.

"Do _you _have a name?" Cloud inquired shortly, his arms crossed to mimic the other man's.

Brown eyes pinned him pointedly to the side of the elevator, "Wasn't talkin' to you, Spike." He spat and looked back at Tifa. "So, what can ya offer me?"

"I want to help." Tifa said in earnest. "I'm inside the building…I have access to things you don't – whatever you need me to do I will."

His companion leaned in to whisper something in the dark man's ear. The latter shook his head and held up his hand, signaling for quiet. He unraveled his arms, "The name's Barret Wallace." He said and gave a nod to the man beside him, "This here's Wedge. We got the dubious honor o' leadin' this band o' miscreants called Avalanche – ya can imagine my…reluctance…under the circumstances."

Tifa waited, her hands worrying the stiff fabric of her shorts.

"That bein' said," Barret continued, "Johnny won't shut up 'bout ya an' my ears are startin' ta bleed. So, I'll give ya a shot."

She was so afraid to speak and spoil his generosity in her moment of euphoric relief that she barely managed a nod of gratitude.

Cloud grumbled something under his breath behind her that sounded distinctly unkind. As a result, the heel of her boot maneuvered over his toes and gave them a good squish. Air hissed between his teeth, but no further commentary was forthcoming.

"But him…" Barret's gaze flickered at Cloud, "I ain't makin' no promise for."

Cloud stepped forward, "Listen_," _He said, "if it's Shin-Ra you're worried about, I don't want anything to do with them. I don't really care what it is you do either, but if you pay, I'll fight.

"Mercenaries…" Barret gave a contemptuous snort, twisting his neck with a crack. "I don't turn down willin' hands though, even if money is all ya want. You fight," He jabbed a finger at him, "Then I'll pay ya."

The elevator came to a shuddering halt and they were ushered out into another tunnel. Tifa glanced around, marveling at their surroundings. They had to be underground. The walls were granite, cast slate gray by the dim electronic lighting in the passage.

Barret led them to a round door of solid steel. The one called Wedge performed a series of knocks and stepped back. There was a flurry of mechanical noises from the other side and then a hiss of pressurized air as the seal was released. The door swung smoothly inwards on hydraulic hinges into a world of whirling activity.

At first Tifa could only stare.

Silver blue toned walls glistened around a room full of bustling people and technology, from computers and surveillance cameras, to big screened monitors and virtual touch boards. A writhing nest of wiring sprawled beneath sleek glass tables and disappeared through power outlets to elsewhere.

Tifa's brow rose into her hairline; this was no small scale uprising. This was a full blown operation.

Monitors hummed in cadence with low voices and occasional laughter. Men and woman of all shapes, colors and size mingled together at work. Their clothes were patchwork, worn, but crisp, and there were dozens of them in just this one room.

How many more might be in the resistance?

A paper airplane hurtled past and landed in the tunnel behind them before the door shut with a decisive thud.

"Barret!" Someone shouted from across the way. Tifa looked up and spotted a woman weaving her way towards them. She sported a winning smile and a short pony tail of dirty blonde hair pulled back from her eyes with a red bandana, "So, this is her then?" Her gaze met Tifa's briefly, halting inevitably on Cloud, "And who is this?"

"Haven't asked." Barret said gruffly.

"Cloud." He answered quietly.

"Welcome to Avalanche, Cloud." She beamed and held out her hand. "I'm Jesse."

Cloud seemed taken aback at first by the gesture, but courteously accepted the offer of friendship while Tifa looked on with a fretful frown and Barret just plain scowled. The exchange was immediately broken by a delighted outburst.

"Daddy!"

A short streak of light pink and bouncing brown hair hurled passed. The girl threw herself in the unsuspecting embrace of the big man, oblivious to her father's dismay as she giggled with delight.

Barret cleared his throat as he hoisted the child up on his shoulder, his cheeks turning a unique shade of purple. "Marlene!" He chastised and glared at Jesse. "I told ya to keep her upstairs."

Jesse ducked her head sheepishly. "I couldn't stop her." She gave him a playful slap on the arm. "You know you wanted to see her anyway."

He indulged the girl with a swift smile as he set her down and knelt in front of her. "Off with ya. Back upstairs. I'll be up later."

Marlene's lower lip protruded with an exaggerated whimper. Her eyes automatically slid past him to where Tifa stood and she did a little hop step, smiling broadly. "Thank you for the flower!"

Tifa inclined her head with a smile in return, "You're more than welcome."

Her father made a disgruntled sound, but there was nothing for it. The little girl was on a mission and couldn't be swayed. "Are you gonna stay?"

Tifa made a show of regret, "I'm afraid not."

Marlene's brow furrowed petulantly as she stepped back, "Why?"

"Marlene…" Barret drawled with a warning.

The girl stopped, chewing her lip pensively as she returned to her father's side. He whispered something in her ear and her face brightened some. She turned and waved, "Nice to see you!" and disappeared back into the mire of tall, adult people.

Barret exhaled deeply and rubbed the back of his neck, "Sorry 'bout that."

"She's a sweetheart." Tifa smiled sadly.

The man appeared to shake himself out of a reverie and turned to address Jesse, "We need the conference room."

"Should be empty, come on." She signaled for them to follow.

The activity continued around them as they moved through the room, but there was an underlying tension. Tifa noted that everyone appeared to be armed and probably ready to fight at the first sign of danger. They were not so untrained as Shin-Ra would have its SOLDIERs believe.

The conference room was medium sized and dominated by a large circular table that was at the moment buried under a pile of miscellaneous papers that would have given Sephiroth's desk a run for its money. In the back were old bunks, hammocks and bean bags. There was a dart board on one wall and a punching bag in the corner.

"Here we are," Jessa announced with a sweep of her arm. She turned to face them, hands on her hips. "Need me for anything else?"

Barret scratched his beard for a moment, thinking. "Better stick around," He said finally. "Tifa here wants ta get in on our operation – could be useful havin' a man inside."

"Sure thing." Jesse replied and gave Tifa two exuberant thumbs up. "Have a seat around the table everyone."

The door was closed and locked behind them.

* * *

It took two hours to determine everything they wanted to know.

The maps were useful, they said, though they did have some of their own. It was the key card that was invaluable – Tifa's ticket in. Jesse was a tech master; she could do anything Barret needed her to do. She could even make a drive hacker that would bypass security walls on a computer in a matter of seconds. It could hold ten times as much ram as a single computer.

All Tifa would have to do is plug it in. It would be her first job among many that they would task her with. In time they would have to ask much, much more of her, and she had agreed without asking what. She didn't want to know.

The drive hacker was in her pocket as she departed the base, anxiety rippling across her face.

This was their main operation point, but there were back up holes in other parts of the city. They had approximately seven bases of operations, one for every sector. Gods knew how extensive each one of them was, but she suspected that what she'd seen today hardly scratched the surface.

She didn't know how they accumulated enough man power for an operation of this magnitude. They were connected electronically on a ghost line designed by Jesse. Communication was instant and concealed from prying eyes.

And they'd be watching her every step too.

"Hey,"

Tifa stopped, her heart caught momentarily in her throat. Cloud was standing there in the circular doorway, his shoulders slightly hunched. His eyes softened a bit as he looked at her, "It's good to see you again."

She forced a smile through the sharp pang in her chest, "It's good to see you too."

"Take care of yourself." He tried a smile

"I will." She smiled faintly back. "You do the same, alright?"

He gave a nonchalant nod before turning away with a wave and heading back into the base.

Tifa swallowed hard as she watched him go, unable to stop him. Avalanche would take him on and if he proved himself useful, he could stay. It was a start for him at any rate.

But it wasn't turning out at all how she had envisioned. They were supposed to be together - that's how these stories worked, or so she'd thought.

Her lips thinned bitterly. So much for that.

The trip back to Shin-Ra HQ was a long one, not least of which because Tifa was dreading having to smuggle herself back into the building. She felt so lost, suddenly deprived of the purpose that had brought her here. It invited unsettling questions.

Was she merely fighting for the resistance now? She didn't know.

Angeal and Chaka were not bad people, but they were undeniably on the wrong side of this battle from where she stood. Did they have to be her enemies now? More importantly, did Sephiroth?

A dull ache was growing inside her. She shouldn't even care, but some part of her subconscious wanted to help him – _needed _to help him. Was there anything to lose in trying?

Her sanity perhaps, though little good _that_ had done her lately.

Tifa sighed heavily.

Pebbles scattered as her sneakers scraped the concrete. She took a detour through the abandoned railways. Not because there was anything to do there, but she needed practice and had time to kill. The sun had just reached its zenith in the sky – she could afford to stay away for a while longer.

The rush of battle quickly replaced her anxieties with a calm, calculated determination that was stable and comforting. She found herself missing Chaka's company. His training was bearing fruits for her and he was a good teacher.

She would never reach Sephiroth's skill, as much as she appreciated Chaka's encouragement – she was not genetically engineered. But she would be the best that _she _could be, for the world and those without the strength to defend themselves.

A few hours, a few nicks and cuts later, and Tifa headed back towards the inner city. It was around 6 o'clock when she boarded the train to Shin-Ra HQ. She settled in her seat and perused her phone for news to pass the time.

Professor Lowell was flooding the Notice board again. The materia thief was still at large, now with over half his stores. Nothing new there. Nothing new _anywhere _apparently. Shin-Ra appeared to be running a rather loose ship as of late.

The train came to a stop and two SOLDIERs who were onboard with her got up to leave. She followed farther behind, waiting until they were mostly out of sight before stepping down onto the platform. Her eyes strayed to the maintenance door that went to the stairs of the building.

Her heart gave a depressed flop. She'd been walking all day. Maybe if she just went right in no one would notice. It's not like the first floor was closed to civilians.

The front doors to the building abruptly opened and all thoughts of the stairs vanished. She knew it was him before she looked, but it didn't stop her. Their eyes met at precisely the same moment, striking a shiver down her spine like a premonition of fate. Neither of them moved as they stared at one another.

Tifa felt inexplicably drawn to him and had to stop herself when she took a step towards him. She was so caught up in the confusion of her own feelings that she never noticed that he had been stepping towards her as well. The troupe of 2nd and 3rd class SOLDIERS that had preceded him were now boarding the train, but he had forgotten them. He recognized her for who he thought she was, as the disguised SOLDIER, but there was something more there, something he couldn't place.

There was no time to think. Tifa ducked behind a curtain of dark hair and made a run for the front doors of the building.

His eyes were like a gravitational force pulling at her senses. She burst into the first floor lobby at an accelerated walk, passing the front desk and the curious secretary. Behind her she could hear the deep timber of his voice as it was abruptly cut off by the closing of the doors.

No sooner had it stopped beofre the hinges gave a faint whine as they burst open again. His footsteps reverberated an authorative cadence across the polished tile flooring, swallowing her shorter stride. She hit the stairs at a sprint and started skipping steps with an urgency that surprised her.

Too much adrenaline and not enough caution.

Tifa felt her boot slip and knew it was all over in the flash of pain that was coming. Her shin hit the edge of the stair with the full weight of her body behind it. She strangled the hurt that clung to her throat. It was all she could do not to cry out as tears pushed at the corners of her eyes.

That throbbing ache blossomed in her head loud enough to drown out any notions of running further. She sagged against the rail and bit down on her lip as a trickle of warmth ran down her leg.

A gloved hand appeared before her. She followed the offending appendage up his leather clad arm, past the polished shoulder guards and along his bare neck to the face peering down at her through guarded eyes. He'd scarcely made a sound coming up the stairs behind her and though she knew his inhuman speed, it still stunned her that he could be right there.

"Up." He gestured with his fingers sharply, but his voice held no malice.

She didn't know what possessed her to accept his hand, but she did.

His voice thrummed wearily through her bones as he helped her to her feet, "Are you alright?"

She gave a mute nod. Every curse word in the book came to mind as she stood and put weight on both feet. Almost instinctively Sephiroth's other hand had found itself around her lower back to settle firmly on her hip for support.

Tifa bristled at the unexpected touch, but rather than pulling away she found herself leaning into him instead, drawn by the strength that he was so possessed of. It encircled her with the assurance of safety, the heady scent of leather and something…metallic.

It could not be placed, that smell –alive, full of energy and power, _his_. Its appeal to her was so overpowering that the need to deny it never materialized.

The elevator doors could not have chosen a better time to spring open with a startling ding. Sephiroth tensed beside her. He seemed caught between running and throwing himself in front of her, until the decision was abruptly taken from him when the SOLDIER emerged and did a double take. His mouth fell open.

Sephiroth didn't say a word, but from the sudden snap of the SOLDIER's teeth coming together one got the impression that _something _was conveyed in a nonverbal exchange between the two. The young man was gone in a flash.

Tifa relaxed in poorly disguised relief, though she didn't know why she should've felt nervous. At least, not until Sephiroth's mouth was right by her ear and there was no room to spare between them. The warmth of his breath tickled in such a manner as to give way to inappropriate thoughts.

He whispered quickly, "Tomorrow afternoon, same place, 2 p.m. sharp. If you are but a minute late, I will leave you behind." He pulled away then, before adding quietly, "Do not risk yourself this way again."

Her knees nearly gave out as she watched him sweep down the stairs and disappear, her heart still hammering in her chest as something stirred deep in the pit of her stomach, a feeling she desperately wanted to despise, but couldn't.

* * *

It was Saturday morning and Angeal glanced edgily about Director Lazard's office. One hand lifted to his chin as he brushed his index finger over his lower lip. He paced from one end to the other, stopping intermittently to rearrange his thoughts.

When the door opened he gave a start, turning to face his superior with undisguised reservation. It was always this way when they met, ever since the incident of five years ago.

Lazard had never been a large man, but he was pushing the limits of attenuated these days. His hair, so carefully swept back, seemed on the verge of cracking. There were dark rings under his eyes and stubble on his chin where there shouldn't have been.

The director pulled up short as he noticed Angeal standing there. "Oh, hello Angeal." He said and drew a hand across his brow. "Is there something I can do for you?"

Angeal dropped his arms at his sides, "The Nibelheim records before the disaster occurred." He began, "I'd like to see them."

Lazard stared incredulously back at him, waiting for the punch line. When nothing happened he removed his glasses with a despondent sigh and proceeded to polish them, "You know I can't do that."

The SOLDIER's brow furrowed deeply, "There must be some way of getting ahold of them."

The director replaced his glasses and took a seat behind his desk, crossing his legs and touching his finger tips as he regarded the other man. "It is impossible, not the least of which, they'd never hand it over to you if it did exist. Every last piece of evidence regarding the original town site has been erased for obvious reasons."

Angeal pivoted away sharply, swearing under his breath. He blew a gust of air out his nose and glared pensively at the floor.

"Why?" Lazard's voice broke in.

He shifted his hands to his waist, "Something…maybe it's nothing." He murmured. "There's a SOLDIER who claims to be from Nibelheim originally - says he hasn't been back in over five years."

"Does he know?" The director inquired sharply.

Angeal's eyes flickered towards the other man briefly and settled back on the floor. "I'm not certain." He replied carefully. "But something is off. I wanted to run a cross-check on his last name from the list of the dead, but…"

There was a faint squeak from the chair as a weight was lifted from it. Lazard's shoes tapped gently across the hard surface floor as he approached the SOLDIER, hands in his pockets. For a moment they seemed to gaze into the same distance.

"There may be a way of finding out, but you will have to convince Tseng that your suspicions have merit." Lazard said. "That's all I can give you."

Angeal nodded. "That will have to do."

* * *

4:30 in the morning and there were thirteen messages on her phone. She didn't know thirteen people. How was that even possible?

Well, for one thing there were about five from one mysterious entity labeled "Murphy". Who was he and how had he gotten her phone number? She would have to look into that later.

Jesse had sent her three messages too – that was to be expected.

The other five were an assortment of letters and announcements. Chaka was coming back tomorrow, a few days earlier than expected. He seemed distracted. Professor Lowell was on the verge of blowing a capillary - she wished he'd stop spamming everyone's inbox.

Lazard had posted a notice regarding an upcoming company party to follow a press conference with President Shin-Ra, scheduled a week from today. Tifa eyed this particular message disdainfully before moving on. There was one from Angeal requesting her presence for a report that afternoon. The last was an anouncement from Sephiroth, which was bizarre to say the least. She didn't even know he _had _a phone.

Tifa opened that one first, the memories of last night still fresh in her mind.

_I will be holding a strategy class for leadership development in the evenings every other day of the week. Anyone interested in participating should meet me in the Practice Room Simulator tonight at 1800 hours._

_Sephiroth_

Shock registered across her face.

He didn't. He _wouldn't _have, would he? Some part of her felt like breaking. She read the message again, but the words had not changed, nor had the sentiment.

Tifa released a shaky breath and refocused on one of the other messages, something from Murphy. She frowned.

_Someone's been in your locker. _

Tifa hovered indecisively in the hallway as she stared down at the screen. After a moment she remembered to walk again and continued on to the stairs – no more elevators for her today. She'd had enough of that. She had an hour and half before the morning drills, enough time to investigate her locker and maybe shed some light on the mysterious "Murphy".

Ten minutes later and Tifa was staggering back from an avalanche of brightly colored spheres as they poured forth from her locker. Her eyes fixed wide in shock and dawning horror, her mouth hung slack. Nothing seemed to respond to her brain's urgent command to hide the incriminating evidence that was now everywhere.

She lurched out of her daze with a strangled sound, glancing in every direction before diving after a random sphere as they rolled across the floor every which way, under the benches and into the far corners of the room. Her ears monitored the sounds of footsteps in the distance as she scrambled, tossing globes of blue, green, yellow, red, and purple back into the bag they'd spilled out of. A good portion of them missed the bag completely and went sailing across to the other side of the room in her frenzy.

By the time she had them all collected again her hands were shaking and she was sweating. Then the door started to open and she had to thrust them haphazardly back into her locker, slamming it shut with a resonating clamor. She whirled round, her back pressed firmly up against the row of lockers as she monitored the approaching SOLDIER.

He gave her a long look as he passed, but didn't say anything.

Tifa allowed herself to breath and made slowly for the door. She was reaching for the control panel when a voice sounded out behind her and she flinched.

"Hey," He said, "I, uh, just wanted you to know…not everyone makes a big deal about, you know, who you're into. I mean, it's cool with me."

"Oh," Her voice quavered, "Uh, thanks."

She slipped out the door and gradually reigned in her terror as she put more distance between her and the stolen bag of materia residing in her locker for reasons she couldn't fathom. Her nose wrinkled as she checked the second message from Murphy.

_Yeah, uh, I want those back. _

Tifa would be more than happy to give them back at this point and pretend that none of that had just happened. She didn't even want to think at the implications of the messages on her phone. There wasn't _time _for shit like this!

On the flip side of that coin, she was definitely not more than happy to arrive at the gymnasium second to Sephiroth. His chest was bare, her limbs all frozen akimbo as she stared. At the first sign of movement from her silver haired menace – he was turning to face her – she executed her escape maneuver, ducking her head and scurrying towards the far corner of the room.

She allowed her eyes to rove surreptitiously towards him from behind the visor. He was watching her, albeit far more blatantly and not because she was a fine figure of a man. There was a throbbing in her ears as her pulse intensified.

Tifa frowned pensively at the feelings warring for precedence in her mind. This was just the natural reaction of pheromones in the body to something that was undeniably attractive, if a bit unpredictable and insane. No harm in appreciating the view, right?

_Wrong, _she thought morbidly.

"SOLDIER." The authority in that single word drew her up short, a tingle of apprehension trickling from the base of her skull down into her very toes.

She turned almost meekly, afraid of what she would face at the end of that voice. Sephiroth stood on the other side of the room in all his ripped glory and regarded her with bright-eyed curiosity set within a perfectly smooth, unlined face. She had the unnerving sensation of him looking right into her soul.

"Sir?" She queried.

Sephiroth took that as an invitation to approach, not that he needed one. His gaze traveled the length of her body twice and a thoughtful line formed above his eyes. He circled her once, oblivious to the bright red sheen now reflected in her cheeks, and stopped in front of her.

Tifa felt distinctly uncomfortable. Was he pretending to check her out as a man, because that was just weird. On the other hand, if he was checking her out as the woman he knew she was, than she had problems of astronomical size.

That brought her back to the first theory. Grant it, there could be some other obscure reasoning behind the intensity of his eyes on her, but she was afraid to wonder at what it might be and just assumed not ask. He probably wouldn't answer anyway.

_Maybe Sephiroth wants everyone to think he's batting for the other team? _

She suppressed a giggle and momentarily forgot herself.

"Your shape is far too obvious in that attire." He regarded her grimly.

Tifa blushed outright. "E-excuse me?"

"It's a wonder I didn't notice before." He continued.

She harrumphed with a snide retort, "Maybe that's because your tastes run a different course from the _usual._"

He arched a dubious brow, "Are you suggesting that I'm gay?"

Tifa fidgeted slightly under the amusement clearly reflected in the subtle twitch of his lips. "Well…you do have unusually long hair. It could be sign."

_Okay, that was weak._

Sephiroth chuckled softly as he turned and began to walk away. "You will attend tonight." He said in afterthought, and it was not a question.

Her helm lifted sharply to glare at his retreating back as she fought the urge to huff indignantly, but having already made the decision half an hour ago, chose tact instead. "That was my intention, sir."

He turned at the head of the room and faced her. "Good."

By now other SOLDIERS had begun to arrive. Tifa was left to stare after him in bemusement. Maybe he really _was _batting for the other team. Tifa snickered at the thought of all his besotted female fans. The snicker quickly escalated into a whimper and she stomped her foot.

_How utterly unfair!_

She did not stop to think at why her mind would care who Sephiroth was interested in, because she certainly didn't. And the small, infinitesimal cubicle in her brain that whispered conspiringly that she didn't quite despise him anymore was gagged by the common sense that was scrambling for a toe hold in this rapidly spiraling out of control situation.

In conclusion, she blamed the mice.

How could you hate someone who thought so affectionately of the fuzzy little misbegotten rodents that lived in his office space? She must really be losing her mind.

Sephiroth's call for attention interrupted her musings and she belatedly stepped into line with the others.

Tifa could feel dread welling up in the pit of her stomach as she watched him pace the room between exercises. He scoured every row, looming over the struggling specimens before him, waiting, watching. She knew what he was waiting for.

The pushup drill. She _hated _the push up drill, and he was timing it just right, the bastard. Why, she wanted to know, was he antagonizing her so? She gritted her teeth, her eyes on him from the corner of the visor as he made his slow, seemingly innocuous approach, though she knew full well what he was up to. He stopped to stand over her and announced the switch.

Her hands planted on the floor matting, set carefully apart, and she glared down at the vibrant blue of the pad as she straightened her back into position. She pushed, extending her arms and maintained posture as she waited for the go ahead.

Sweat rolled off the tip of her nose – they'd been exercising for half an hour already. But this he was drawing out on purpose. She could see his boots if she ducked her head under, standing behind her as he was.

"Begin." His voice echoed smoothly from one side of the room to the other.

Forty-five pushups in and he had yet to move. From the base of Tifa's throat came a silent groan as her arms gave out. She took a few deep breaths, positioned her hands again, and resumed the exercise for another twenty before hitting the matt a second time.

Then Sephiroth was squatting beside her, his nose scarcely inches from her face. There was an incorrigible smirk there as he gazed down at her, but his eyes were anything but laughing.

"I will have to push you harder than the rest." His words drifted softly to her, beyond the earshot of those around them. "To keep your secret…"

She survived the last thirty seconds and Sephiroth straightened without another word, continuing on down the line. The last hour they ran and he was dogging her footsteps every step of the way. She attempted losing him in the crowd of sweating bodies and only succeeded in enraging several of them. The end result was that she worked twice as hard to cover the same distance and had little to show for it.

But she understood. She wanted to hate him for it, but she understood.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Good God...that took _way _longer than it should have. But I now have a private helicopter license to show for all my absence! So I've been doing something in my off time. I'm going to post this and immediately begin work on the next chapter. Theoretically you all won't have to wait months to see it - I'm hoping more like a week, two at the most. It kills me to take this long to get something done and this story has so far to go yet. Hopefully it's still keeping you all occupied, but I know it's a pain in the arse having to re-fresh your memory of what's happened in the previous chapters - I've had to do the same.

Writing...it's just a tough business. Sometimes the inspiration just isn't there and I had a lot of things that I need to figure out in order for the rest of the story to flow smoothly from this point. It took some time, but I think I've got it taken care of.

Take care and happy reading...reviews are nice. I'll hang my head in shame without them (which I might very well deserve, but I swear I'm trying).

Faerlyte


	11. Chapter 11

**_The Warrior_**

**Chapter 11**

_And here...we...go...!_

_

* * *

  
_

Angeal paced his office, glancing at his watch every third minute. It was an hour before his meeting with Fry and already his nerves were tingling. The business from the other day that had put three SOLDIERs in the infirmary had been haunting him all morning – he was sure he didn't want to know the particulars, but it was his responsibility to find out.

It was doubtful that Fry, of all people, would have randomly instigated a fight with three other men. Therefore something else had to be at work here; something that he suspected would probably have him blowing a capillary to rival Professor Lowell's. In times like these he hated the military.

Not everyone came to serve honorably.

He didn't quite know what to think of Fry. Trying to determine right from wrong within a company that was corrupt from the inside out was impossible. The word 'duty' no longer held sway in such a place. It was like honor to thieves and liars – a damn waste.

Angeal rued the day that he had survived to be taken back here. At night, when he was alone and free to gaze longingly at the sky, he thought of his old student and friend, Zack. He envied him; his freedom, his courage to fight back, all the things that the teacher had lacked when his own judgment day had come.

The SOLDIER swore, raking both hands through his hair as he sagged into his chair. His nails dug painfully into his scalp at the chip that rested just under the skull. It was a constant reminder of all his mistakes, one that would likely haunt him forever, or kill him.

And that was where his true cowardice lay, because it should have by now – he should have given them the bird and been done with it.

A light tinkle announced the arrival of the black tuxedo cat. He stalked across the glass table with half lidded expression and the assurance of royalty. His newly acquired bell and collar had added a new degree of pride to his stature.

"Hello Soldier." Angeal reached forward with a weariness unbefitting of a man just reaching thirty.

Soldier leaned appreciatively into the proffered hand, gliding underneath it till his tail curled around the man's fingers. Then he turned and repeated the process, a soft grainy purr the only sound within the room. It reverberated off the barren walls of the man's prison with a hopefulness that he didn't feel.

For a cat with important things to be doing, Angeal was a vexing human to deal with. Soldier bestowed all the appreciation and devotion a cat could, and still the man sat around in doldrums day after day. Why, to be doted on by such a magnificent creature should've been a great honor.

Alas, those scars were too deep for even a cat to fill with purrs of rapture. He would settle for warming Angeal's lap instead.

Angeal gazed down at a loss as the cat proceeded to knead his trousers with sharp, stinging claws. He winced, hoping sincerely that the animal would make up its mind or get off. Such was the way of cats he supposed. Soldier paused half-way between lying down and standing before he finally relented, tucking his feet under him in satisfaction.

A minute later Angeal's office door slid open with the sort of irritated swish that warned him of a certain silver haired man's imminent arrival. He didn't know _why _this was so, as it was simply a door, not a sentient being capable of changing its tune to the whim of particular people, but he suspected it had something to do with the aura that often preceded Sephiroth wherever he went and changed according to his moods.

The dark haired man had scarcely begun lifting his head when two gloved hands landed firmly on his desk, inviting a wide eyed baleful stare from his lap companion.

"What is _that _doing here?" It came out like a verbal shudder. Sephiroth's eyes narrowed at the cat and the cat narrowed his back.

The mice in his office seemed fewer in number recently…

Angeal rubbed gingerly behind Soldier's ears, oblivious to the frigid confrontation passing between man and feline, "He's keeping me company – Gods know I could use some in this place."

Sephiroth straightened, his nose cautiously testing the air. He scowled, "It smells like cat litter in here."

His friend grudgingly sat forward, unseating Soldier, who jumped down and pranced away with a little flick of his tail that said all that needed to be said of his opinion on _that _matter.

"What is it, Sephiroth?" Angeal asked plainly, his elbows braced on his table. He seemed on the verge of putting his head down and taking a nap. "You didn't come here to harass the cat…at least I hope not."

The man looked back at him with a severity that Angeal hadn't had directed at him in years. It put him off his step, made him uncertain. He didn't move, afraid of what was to come and ready to bolt if need be. Not that he would make it – Sephiroth was far faster than him.

"Fry." The word sunk into the room like a sword point.

There was a bemused pause, "What about him?"

"He is a good SOLDIER." It was a cryptic message. Sephiroth sounded like he'd eaten bad clams – subterfuge had never really been his strong suit.

Angeal stared at his friend as if he'd lost a different part of his mind. Point A, conversations of this sort between the two of them were dangerous in these rooms; Point B, Sephiroth had scarcely shown emotional drive towards anything since his memory loss following the 'incident'.

This was all very sudden and startling, and had to be handled with great care.

But there was no time to respond before Sephiroth had forged ahead with his train of thought, "I require his assistance this afternoon in the sewers, if that is agreeable to you." He watched Angeal from the corner of his eyes, waiting.

The other leaned back slowly and gave a deliberate nod. "Of course." He said. "I'm sure it would do him good to work with you."

Sephiroth made a face at that, but said nothing.

"You don't agree?" Angeal pressed curiously.

That earned him an outright glare. Sephiroth was trying to tell him something, Angeal couldn't be sure what, but it was beginning to unnerve him. If his friend was privy to knowledge that he wasn't, and therefore concerned for the SOLDIER's safety, he could offer a small bit of assurance that, no, he would not throw the boy to the wolves without consulting Sephjroth first.

"Don't worry about it." Angeal leveled him with a knowing look.

Sephiroth nodded curtly. "2 p.m." He said and he turned to go. "I will need him by then."

His hair was an inch short of being caught in the door when it closed behind him. Angeal pursed his lips. He never had understood his friend's infatuation with the excessively long do, especially considering some of the past incidents it had precipitated.

Of course, Sephiroth would castrate him if he ever let that slip out into the public, and he just assumed keep his manhood intact.

* * *

Tifa had been secreted in her room for the better part of the morning following the workout. At this point she was afraid to come out lest some other disaster find her. There was no guarantee it wouldn't somehow find her within the sanctuary of her room, but she had to hide somewhere.

Avalanche had given her three tasks via Jesse to occupy her mind. The first was to infiltrate Hojo's office computer; that was not a happy revelation - her heart was now shriveled up somewhere on the ocean floor and not answering phone calls. Did they _realize _he was certifiably insane?

The second was far more docile in nature, almost like a cuddly teddy bear in comparison to the first assignment. She could tap into their communication wires, so long as she had the 'how to' list. That would be supplied by Jesse.

And she could infiltrate the database that filed out all the missions, guard duty scheduling, and so forth for Shin-Ra's military elite. Those were easy things, if only because her fear of Shin-Ra was substantially less than that of the mad scientist; it was a matter of execution vs. possible mutilation, experimentation, and agonizingly long death...

For her it was an easy decision. She was half way to the gas chamber already. Not that she was hankering to throw herself off the nearest ledge any time soon, but she liked to stay true to the realities of her situation.

She hoped it wouldn't come to the worst.

There were still three unopened messages from Murphy in her phone inbox. Tifa regarded them cautiously. She wasn't altogether certain she wanted to know, but seeing the unopened letter symbol as it flashed on the screen demanded attention.

The first message:

_Ewww, there's a headless body in storage pod A on floor 75. Hojo's such a freak!_

Tifa couldn't help the grimace that mingled with her bewilderment. She knew there was a good reason she hadn't taken a closer look.

The second message:

_What the…? There's a big orange cat here too. These people are sooo weird. _

Her brow darted upwards. Apparently 'Murphy' considered himself to be a separate entity from Shin-Ra. That was a good sign anyway. Maybe.

The third:

_What happened to the funny dude with the pointy black hair anyway?! What was his name…? Zat? Zax? _

_…Zit?_

Tifa was caught between laughing and crying. She stared at the third message for a long time not knowing quite what to do with it. Had the entity labeled 'Murphy' known him well? Would it hurt that person to discover that he was dead?

She couldn't say how, but she knew the answer was yes. She imagined that it must have hurt a lot of people.

Her response was short and to the point: _Zack is dead. _

And she had a meeting to get to in five minutes. _Damn. _No stairs for today. Tifa blew between her compressed lips, making a funny vibrating sound. She reluctantly stepped out of her room and made for the elevators at a brisk jog.

Both were in use – they always were, but it only took one minute as opposed to five for the next to show up. That left her approximately 4 minutes to get to Angeal's office. At least he wasn't as much of a stickler for being on time as Sephiroth was.

"Oh." Tifa jerked to a standstill as the devil himself materialized from behind the elevator doors. She made a sound of disbelief. "What do you _do _around here?" She asked with an edge of exasperation, "You're always on the elevator!"

He did that eyebrow thing that made her feel like a squirming insect and asked in his high and mighty tone. "Are you getting on or not?"

She got in. And she made sure to put enough space between them that she was fairly plastered to the wall. Her eyes kept drifting to the side to see what he was doing, which didn't appear to concern him nearly as much as it was concerning her. He acted as if she was invisible and she was 99% sure that he was doing it deliberately.

Fortunately, as it were, Sephiroth had put in the floor number for her because she only remembered it when the elevator came to a halt and the doors opened with a ding to Angeal's floor. She stood there, blankly contemplating how one person could unravel her so thoroughly, until a firm prod in the back got her moving back into reality.

Tifa whirled on him, not knowing quite what she intended to do, but certain that she should do something. His eyes were laughing at her as the doors closed on him.

She sighed, turned away, and headed to Angeal's office with a brooding look at the floor.

He was waiting for her when she arrived and locked the door once she was inside. Tifa didn't know what to think, but fear was currently running rampant in first place. Locked doors were generally a bad sign in her experience and past history definitely wasn't in her favor.

"Fry," He spoke firmly, "I won't tolerate the singling out and abuse of my SOLDIERs under any circumstances. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes sir." Her voice lost some of its depth.

_Oh god… _It would have to be this. She'd finally gotten that incident out of her mind and moved forward, only to have it dredged back up from the depths of unpleasant memories that she'd rather not revisit.

"Then you will please tell me what happened to place three of my SOLDIERS in the infirmary with a broken arm, a broken nose, and a concussion respectively, the day before yesterday." One hand rested loosely at his side, the fingers braced against his desk, and the other was planted on his hip.

For one hysterical moment Tifa thought he meant to blame her for incident, but on second thought she realized he couldn't be that stupid. It was his job to be impartial and hear both sides of the story before making assumptions, so she would tell him what happened.

Her gaze shifted uncomfortably away from him – not that telling him was going to be _easy_, "I was leaving the mess hall," she began, "I didn't even have time to turn around when I got hit. They came out of nowhere."

There was a subtle twitch of the muscle along his jaw, "Go on."

Tifa schooled her expression and concentrated on looking him in the eyes. Looking into the eyes was honest, not to mention embarrassing. "Well, they dragged me into the bathroom, which I guess is where they'd been waiting in the first place."

A change swept over the man in front of her, like a frigid north wind invading the sunny beaches of Costa Del Sol, "I see."

Her throat constricted on the next part of her story. "I was too dazed at first to defend myself, but they needed me conscious for what they…uh… what they…intended to do…"

Angeal held up his hand, "That's enough, Fry." A vein she hadn't noticed before was throbbing on his forehead and the skin of his face was pulled so taught as to appear brittle.

Tifa bit the inside of her cheek, thankful for his discretion, but upset with the memory.

He let out a long, controlled breath, his hands tense as his fingers rapped against the glass desktop, "Why did you not tell me this before?"

She leveled him with a glare that said just about everything.

"Nevermind." He dismissed the thought abruptly and met her gaze in earnest, "I will deal with this immediately. Rest assured that they will no longer wear the uniform at the end of the day."

Tifa shrugged faintly, despite the shiver that crawled up her spine whenever she thought about what had happened. She knew the depth of danger she toyed with, how close she was to being both discovered and violated. It could be even worse if they found out she was a woman, if she were caught by the wrong person.

Angeal clasped her firmly by the shoulders with a stern look, "From now on, if _anyone _is giving you trouble, you will tell me, am I clear?"

She nodded, unsettled by the intensity of his concern. Her mouth felt dry and her heart subdued. She didn't deserve his kindness, not when she was going behind his back. It didn't seem right.

But neither did a man like him serving in a place like this.

He released her abruptly and returned to his desk, taking a seat. "You did well on your first mission. I'm pleased." He announced.

Tifa hid a wince, "Thank you sir."

He cast a sideward glance at her from his monitor. "No sign of the resistance?"

She shook her head, controlled, even – _almost _believable, "No, sir. Nothing but rats."

Angeal rubbed his palms against his forehead as he leaned back in his chair, "I suppose that is to be expected." He murmured. "Chaka is due in tomorrow."

"I heard." Tifa replied. "He sent me a message."

"I was considering sending the two of you down into the sewers for a more thorough investigation." He went on to say. "But I've been informed that Sephiroth has already commandeered you for the task this afternoon."

Tifa's brow furrowed, but before she could comment on her surprise he was speaking again.

"I apologize that your integration period has been cut so dramatically short of the norm, but we are short handed these days and you are more advanced than your peers." His expression darkened profoundly.

"It's fine, Angeal." Tifa said softly and felt quite rotten.

She regarded him with some concern. The frown he so often wore didn't suit a man whose features were better made for smiling. There was a softness about Angeal that made him more susceptible to the wrong that choked this place, and for that it took the greatest toll on him.

"It's hard finding good SOLDIERs" He explained in a vague and distant voice. "The world is changing, I wonder if it is for the better…"

An ominous feeling twisted in her gut. From the shadow in his eyes she guessed it had been haunting him for a while. It was a sensation of being pulled by an unseen force towards an inevitable battle where neither side is in control, and both are the pawns of something darker and more sinister.

Tifa shook herself free, blinking away the thought almost as quickly as it had come. She cleared her throat, "Am I dismissed, sir?"

"Yes," Angeal gave a distracted wave somewhere in vicinity of the door, her cue to leave.

* * *

The entire train ride left Tifa's insides a writhing knot of anxiety. She couldn't stop thinking about the conversation with Angeal, about the way he had looked. It bothered her more than she thought it should, but then this whole place had a way of creeping a person out.

How could someone, once so renowned for his strength and sense of honor, sink to such depths of despair? What had happened? Everywhere she looked she saw signs of decay within Shin-Ra. Regardless of the power it boasted, it was barely a shadow of its former self now.

Why?

Sephiroth's blowout in Nibelheim was only one piece of what she now understood to be a much larger disaster. It hadn't started with him, it wasn't going to end with him, and she intended to find out why. For that she would have to go deeper into the archives of Shin-Ra's murky history, and she had a good idea of where to start.

Hojo; _Jenova._

Tifa's mahogany eyes fixed on the seat in front of her. The world had lost its mind and her with it. Between the mad scientists, aliens, and unstable super SOLDIERs, it was a wonder the planet was still in one piece. The fragile thread that kept it together was stretching to break.

It occurred to her that she might have bitten off more than one Tifa could chew. A dry chuckle emerged from the back of her throat. Her shoulders rose and fell as she composed herself with a deep breath, waiting for the inevitable and not really sure what that entailed.

Sector five was brimming with activity and people when she got off the train. Tifa shrugged her way through the masses, avoiding the curious glances and irritable remarks that drifted her way. A SOLDIER in uniform was always a source of interest and ire, depending on who you happened across.

When the hustle and bustle of daily life had shrank in the distance behind her and the old, abandoned portion of the city loomed in front of her, voices pulled her up short. She craned her head, listening to the ongoing conversation. It was a subdued sort of happiness, muffled by the scuffle of feet on concrete and the slap of a ball as it landed in water.

Tifa approached the corner, round which the sounds emanated. As she did, the ball in question bounced into view and ricocheted off the building across the street from her. It rolled to a stop at the edge of the curb and a young boy, no older then 10, came sprinting out from behind the corner to retrieve it.

His hair was slightly matted and dirt smudged his cheeks. The clothes on his back were old and worn and he wore sandals on his grubby feet - a homeless child? She didn't know they existed above the plates.

He didn't notice her until he had the ball in hand and was turning back. That's when he froze, eyes wary. His body leaned towards the alleyway from which he'd come, an urgency to run tightening in his scrawny legs.

She flashed him what she had meant to be an encouraging smile, but the boy bolted. Confusion muddled her features and she frowned, approaching the corner with reservation. The pleasant chorus of voices that had stopped her earlier had altogether vanished. When she came around into the alley, there was a lone figure standing there waiting.

Tifa immediately felt her hackles rise, her hands balled into fists, "What did you do?"

His head cocked to one side, bangs fluttering in a breeze she couldn't feel. "I have done nothing."

"I heard children…" She continued, suspicion holding her ground.

"Yes," He nodded his head sagely, "And they have gone."

"Why?" Tifa demanded.

Sephiroth looked back at her as if the answer were obvious, "They mistrust the uniform." He explained. "It is nothing personal."

She felt like a bout of hysterical laughter was in order, but bit her tongue. Her fury was taking on a different shape. "And they don't fear you?"

A shadow cast over his face, "Should they?"

Tifa was so still she might have been a statue. The words were on the tip of her tongue, but wouldn't come out. She wanted to scream in his face, to hit him as hard as she could and keep hitting.

His expression softened a fraction, as if understanding. "You fear me."

She shook herself and feigned nonchalance by walking towards him. "No, but most people do." She muttered and started to walk by. "That's what you want, isn't it? People to fear you?"

"Not the way you do." The soft composer of this voice caught her mid-stride.

Tifa could feel the tremble as it came on, but couldn't stop it. His eyes were staring through her, as if to pin her soul to the truth. Because he clearly didn't know and his attempts at compassion just made her _angry_.

"I have done something to you." He surmised bluntly.

She spun around, her nostrils flared and words carefully measured, "Is this why you agreed to have me along? To interrogate me?"

There was a sharp glint to his eyes that made her flinch, "Yes."

"Why?" Tifa shot back.

"I want to know." Sephiroth replied. "You—"

"No you don't." Her voice echoed loudly between them and the walls of the small alley, like a portent of doom. The next part came out as a harsh whisper, "You really don't."

And that was that. Not another word was spoken between them until they were in the sewers, and only then as a necessity. The tension had dissipated some, though it was still acutely present for her.

"Here." Sephiroth handed her a flashlight.

Tifa regarded the thing suspiciously before asking, "Don't you need it?"

He arched an amused brow, his eyes aglow in the dark. The slit, cat-like pupils should've been eerie, but they appeared strangely sedate, almost pleasant right then.

"Oh." She frowned at the uncertain realization and turned away, shining the light into the dark. "Won't the light bother your night vision?"

"Just don't shine it in my face." Sephiroth advised.

The idea was very tempting, but she didn't. Tifa had never had the heart for malice, as much as it was warranted at times. She was not Sephiroth – she did not avenge with brutality or cruelty. It wasn't worth the effort anymore and it certainly didn't fix anything.

Tifa sighed under the burden of self-discovery. Either she had grown soft or she'd never been a hard person to begin with. She'd never really wanted to be a hard person – strong yes, capable certainly, but not harsh.

They passed the time in something close to companionable silence, only because Sephiroth had taken it upon himself to lead. She felt better having him in front of her where she could see him. And he pretty much decimated anything that crossed their path so she never had to get her hands dirty. Her gloves had not been the same since their dunk in sewage several days ago anyway.

From what little she could tell of their current destination, they had been delving deeper and deeper into the sewers. So deep, in fact, that Tifa was surprised there were still stairs and passages to be followed. Her curiosity was bordering on antsy by the time she'd mustered the courage to speak, "You're not looking for the resistance, are you."

It was a guess actually, but she was fairly certain of it.

Sephiroth stopped with his back still facing her. "No." He confirmed.

"Then what are we down here for?" She asked.

"Something of personal interest to me..." He murmured carefully.

Tifa gazed blankly at the back of his head, marveling at his luxurious main of hair in afterthought. "You're not going to tell me what that is?"

Sephiroth glanced to the side with a bored expression. "Only if it becomes necessary."

She huffed angrily, "Then what am I here for?"

His shoulder guards gave a little shrug as he resumed walking, "I don't know – it was your idea to come, not mine."

Tifa felt her patience beginning to thin. "I wanted to know what you're doing down here and you agreed to let me come with you. Why did you bother if you're not even going to tell me what we're doing?"

A weary exhalation emanated from the man in front of her. He stopped again his head leaning back, as if to discern answers from the sky that was somewhere above the layers of stone, invisible and untouchable. "I seem to recall there being attempted blackmail involved." He drawled, before adding with reluctance, "But as it were, I require your help."

She did't stop to wonder at what he meant by 'attempted'. "What makes you think I'm going to help you? You won't even tell me what's going on."

Sephiroth turned his acutely glowing eyes on her with an intensity that caught her breath. "Do you trust me?"

Tifa's mouth parted defensively, but no words came out. She looked away. It was a valid point, she allowed quietly, and felt a stab of guilt for it.

"I am quite sure that the answers you seek may be found where we are going." He told her. "You can draw your own conclusions from what you find there, and in return, you will have helped me."

"How?" She pressed.

His lips framed the ghost of a smile, "A taste of freedom," and he whirled around in a flurry of silver and black.

Tifa didn't know what to say to that, but she was intrigued enough by what he offered to keep going. There was no guarantee he would find what he was looking for anyway.

When they came around the next bend in the sewer, their surroundings took on a much different shape. It was no longer a sewer at all, but a gnarly tunnel rank with the smell of damp age. Algae and slime coated the walls and patches of vibrant green the color of Sephiroth's eyes pooled in hollows along the floor.

It was shorn completely of hard rock, dark and uninviting. The temperature dropped noticeably in the short transition from the sewers to this unfamiliar section of underground. Tifa found herself rubbing her arms as they delved deeper; the chill reached her bones in a way that no mere cold could.

She was so absorbed in the disquieting aura of the place that she didn't notice Sephiroth pull up short. The next thing she knew, a gloved had was pressed firmly against her abdomen, pushing her back. Her skin prickled at the familiar sound of grinding metal as a sword was drawn.

"Stand back." He ordered.

Tifa looked passed him as he strode forward, affording her a good glance at the source of his caution. The air sucked into her lungs with a surprised gasp and she made to follow him.

"I said stay _back_." The command elicited a startled jump, but it had done what it was intended to do. Tifa remained fixed in place, confused but compliant.

Whatever that thing was, though it bore some resemblance to being human, it wasn't anymore. It had transformed into something indiscernible to her eyes, monstrous and pulsating with rage. The creature swiveled its head and pale white eyes at the man who stood opposite of it.

Tifa was surprised when it didn't immediately charge. It stood up straight, its hunched posture giving way to something more shrewd and cunning. The creature's hair was very human like, but for its color – vibrant blue and wild. Its skin was steel gray and scarred with patches of sickly green and yellow, as if it were given to a terrible infection.

"I've seen these before." She found herself speaking with a tremble of horror. In the Nibelheim reactor, where remnants of science gone wrong and twisted had been contained, were others like this one. They had been human once she was sure, but barely recognizable now. And somehow, that place had drove Sephiroth into madness.

The man in question held his ground now, his back ramrod straight, sword held level with his eyes as he stared down the creature. "So have I."

His words turned to ice in her veins. In the next instant the creature had spurred into motion, a shot of lightening.

They came together in a flurry of animalistic growls and a very human snarl of vengeance. The sound left her even colder as the creature slumped to the ground, its blood as red as the next man's as it pooled on the ground. Sephiroth jerked the sword free, staring down at the creature with a vague sense of panic in his eyes.

Tifa started forward without thinking, her hands jerking the helm she wore off her head as she put herself between the man and the dead thing at his feet. "He's not you." She emphasized urgently and forced him to meet her eyes instead. "Forget it."

For one split second he seemed to not know her at all, or not as she was now. She was someone else entirely, someone eerily familiar again. They stood like that for a long time without moving, though his expression had long since lost its surreal quality.

It was only when he glanced down expectantly that Tifa realized her hands were wrapped in the collar of his coat. She released him abruptly and stepped back, blushing despite herself. "Sorry." She murmured and stooped to pick up her helm.

His hand stopped her, a light brush against her shoulder, but enough to bring her up short with a questioning glance. He bent down wordlessly, retrieving her helm, and handed it back to her. Then he turned away and proceeded into the cavernous passage, never once looking back.

Tifa, already somewhat shaken from the incident, couldn't help the foreboding sense that where they were going held only misfortune and pain. When they came to a dead end, or what appeared to be one, the feeling got worse. There was a high ledge above them – very high, illuminated by pale white light, and the wall was sheer, smooth and unclimbable, as if to keep anything that left this way from coming back in.

"Dead end." The sound was hollow to her ears as she spoke. She stared up at the ledge, an inexplicable dread growing inside her.

Sephiroth swept her up so fast she was still dizzy from the shock when he set her down again onto the very ledge that she'd been staring up at moments ago. Her head spun with the lingering effects of having literally been carried in flight through the air and the distinct memory of her body held tightly against his for that brief instant. It left her so shaken that she might have collapsed had he not reached out a hand to steady her.

"My apologies." He said with such a strain at impassivity that it was a wonder he could keep a level tongue. "It is not always the most comfortable sensation the first time."

Tifa glanced down at the ground below with a constricted breath, then back at him. She got the feeling that he was avoiding something by the way he was stiffly keeping his distance from her. "You could have asked." She suggested.

Sephiroth ignored her and started to walk forward when something strange happened. He stopped, one hand jerking to his head as if in pain, the other held out rigidly from his side, his fingers curled taught. A strangled gasp emerged from the back of his throat and he staggered back a step.

Confused and alarmed, Tifa came up beside him, reaching out to him instinctively. At first he didn't seem to notice her at all. His expression was a tight grimace of pain as he stood there, half way between collapse and retaking the lost ground.

Sephiroth bared his clenched teeth for one last attempt before sinking to his knees with a shaky sigh. "I can go no further." He strained and sat back on his heels, eyes trained ahead.

For the first time Tifa noticed the door. It was large, like a garage door set into a flat, light blue tinted wall. It had the appearance of a military station, all high tech and flashy with bands of laser lights wrapping midway all across and serial numbers on the door.

"Is that it?" Her attention strayed to the ceiling corners of the pristine wall. There would likely be surveillance of some kind here, right? Or would there? If this is where they dumped their unwanted experiments, maybe they didn't want to see much.

…Or thought it wasn't necessary.

"Yes." The words came out ragged and deep, as if it were hard for him to speak.

Worry bullied its way around Tifa's reservations as she knelt down beside him. His hair obscured his face from her and she contemplated moving it aside, but thought better of it. "Are you alright?" She asked and the sentiment was honest.

Sephiroth released a breath and straightened again, "I will be fine." He answered and chanced a glance her way with a flicker of interest.

Tifa looked back at him with her no-nonsense face, forehead scrunched with a degree of concern on his behalf that surprised them both. "What's wrong?" It was not voiced as to leave option for debate.

He seemed to recognize that too, for he made no attempt to avoid the question. His gloved hand rose to tap lightly at his skull. "There are boundaries beyond which I cannot pass." He said cryptically. "If you wish to know why, you will have to go in there." His hand moved to indicate the door ahead of them. "But it is for you to decide."

Tifa lifted her head slowly, reluctant to face that possibility. Her face was ashen as she regarded the place, within which there was no telling what or who she would find. There was no doubt in her mind that if they caught her, she would not likely leave the place but as something unrecognizable.

She swallowed hard, "I don't know…" She began to say when his voice cut in abruptly.

"Then don't go."

She caught his gaze questioningly, but his thoughts were concealed from her. Did he not believe her capable? Was he _coddling _her? Tifa felt her resolve harden at the thought and she abruptly stood facing the door.

Below her, Sephiroth's eyes betrayed a glint of approval, but she wasn't looking at him. She was bracing herself for what she was about to do, and started walking. All the while he watched her, and as she scaled the wall and successfully broke through the vent cover before disappearing inside, he felt the first stirring of discomfort.

It was a moment before he realized that the unfamiliar sensation was concern for her safety. She was far braver than he, to embark on such a dangerous endeavor with as little experience under her belt as she had, and no idea of what might await her. Either that or she had a death wish, but he thought that unlikely.

That girl was a fire just waiting to be kindled; quiet, but fierce, and for reasons he did not understand, he wanted to see it when it happened.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **A timely update! And another mammoth of a chapter too - I can scarcely believe it myself. Maybe I'll have another one out before I have to leave a week and a half from now – I can't guarantee anything, but I'll try. Writing has been coming easy lately so I want to get as much done as I can during this rare burst of inspiration.

I'm sure this chapter has probably generated more questions than it has answers, but the _next _one will clear a few things up. The plot will also get increasingly more complicated because this story is seriously loaded with every reference and nod to the compilation that I could logically include (any guesses as to where I'm going now?).

Hopefully you all enjoyed it! Thanks to everyone for getting me excited all over again for this story – I really can't thank you enough for the feedback and encouragement. Keep it coming!

Faerlyte


	12. Chapter 12

_**The Warrior**_

**Chapter 12**

_Yes, it's finally here. I'm going to hide now. _

**

* * *

**

It was a tight fit in the ventilation shaft, which Tifa doubted Sephiroth could have managed with his large frame. So it didn't really matter that some invisible force held him at bay because he wouldn't have made it much farther anyway, short of breaking down the door. On the other hand, he probably would've done just that.

For a man like him there was nothing to fear beyond himself.

It never occurred to her to wonder if Sephiroth would be waiting for her if she returned – she hadn't thought to ask. Nor did she consider the ramifications if he wasn't. The ledge probably wasn't too high to jump down with her mako enhanced strength, but what if she couldn't get out of the building?

He wouldn't be able to help her anyway.

Tifa wiggled along on elbows and toes, sometimes dragging herself by her hands. Sweat beaded along her hairline, forehead wrinkled in concentration. Occasionally she passed a grating with a view of the hall below and took a brief look.

There was a man walking below dressed in a billowing gray lab coat and black slacks, a pair of glasses propped on the tip of his nose – every bit the scientist. He carried a stack of sleek black folders under one arm and a cup of what she guessed was coffee in his other hand. The man passed underneath her uneventfully and disappeared down the hall.

Her shoulder rose and fell as she composed herself, exhaling deeply. No time to analyze the status of her mental health or the fear constantly riding at her back.

Tifa blew at a wayward lock of hair as it drooped across her face. This was probably the bravest, stupidest thing she'd ever done.

Her nose pressed against the grating as she peered through thin layers of metal. Black tile, polished to a mirror's perfection, glistened up at her from the floor. The walls were slate gray, pierced by ribbons of blue light that ran the length of the halls and kept going.

There were distant voices and the crescendo of footsteps. Not much for laughter or sudden outbursts of excitement – just quiet, diligent professionalism. It left a cold, hollow feeling inside her.

With a sigh she continued on. The ventilation shaft branched out frequently, a myriad of paths that would require a map to navigate. All she had was a knife and an X carved into the aluminum siding to mark her route.

The air duct eventually passed through a thick wall of steel. There was nothing remarkable seeming about it, but the door in the hall below boasted a heavy security lock. Maybe she was getting somewhere after all.

Everything turned a shade darker when the air duct next emerged above a hallway. It was subdued and quiet, save for the distant hum of an energy core. The gray turned near black, the ribbons of light more pronounced as they pulsed. And there were guards.

They blended into their surroundings with slate gray uniforms trimmed in reflective blue. Their helmets concealed their faces like a gas mask. She couldn't tell if they were still human or not, and maybe that was the purpose of it.

All that mattered was that they were armed.

Tifa expulsed a muted sound of surprise, eyes narrowing a fraction as she gazed through the grating for a second look. One of their guards was clearly female_._ Her lips framed a lopsided smirk as she eased here way above them carefully.

How typical. _They _had women guards.

The air duct took a sharp turn upwards just ahead and widened out an extra foot, allowing for her to stand. Using her hands and feet as braces against the walls, she inched her way upwards until the shaft leveled out again. Tifa dragged herself over the edge and collapsed with a sigh.

A deep, throbbing hum of a power source perked her ears; the energy core was getting closer. The facility had to draw power from somewhere. She needed an enclosed room that was unoccupied – their power source would not likely be frequented except for maintenance.

It was a start anyway.

Tifa tried to keep to shafts that lead in that general direction and came to an unlighted air duct. There was no hallway to follow and it was pitch black. She held a brief debate with herself before plunging into the abyss – it was just big enough for her to crawl on hands and knees.

Nerves skittered up and down her spine. It was deathly quiet and the sensation of being enclosed was more pronounced in the dark. She half expected something to come leaping out at her.

The air duct eventually came to a dead end of ribbed steel grating. Tifa squinted through it into the room beyond. She could see lighted computer panels and a stream of swirling blue green traveling upwards through a power core that disappeared into the ceiling. Apart from that, it was too dark to make out anything beyond tall lumps of black that might have been rows of storage.

All was still beneath the murmur of technology. Tifa shifted around carefully so that her boots were planted against the metal grating. A solid kick dented the frame and broke loose two screws. The second blow tore it free and the grating crashed to the floor some feet below.

She flinched at the sound, tensing as she waited for some indication of alarm.

When none came, she eased herself down into the room. Her boot caught the edge of the air duct cover, knocking it across the floor with a skull rattling scrape. Tifa winced inwardly and gave it a wide birth as she made towards the lighted computer panel at the center of the room.

A sharp, unseen corner caught her hip as she passed and she staggered with an uttered curse, righting herself with one hand reaching out to the offending wall. Warm glass met her finger tips. She stopped, squinting up at the shadowed lump before retrieved the flashlight Sephiroth had given her.

With a click the beam shot to life, illuminating the concave glass door of a storage pod. Tifa recoiled with a sharp inhalation; there was a person inside of it.

Her throat tightened as she forced her gaze back the central computer.

She came to a halt at the control panel, curiosity brimming as she stashed her flashlight. Her fingers passed lightly over the buttons, the interactive touch screen flickering to life. The computer was built into the power core and difficult to tell where one ended and the other began.

There was a huge monitor erected above it, more like a TV than a computer screen, but nothing in this place particularly shouted cheap. After a brief search, she found the plug in that Jesse had described to her and retrieved the hack drive from her pocket. It was a minute or two before she worked up the nerve to plug it in, the words of Barret's tech genius lingering strongly in her thoughts.

_"Technology has an immediate failure rate of 40% in my experience." _Jesse had said with a deceptively happy smile. _"But think of it this way – that includes theirs too! It might just work out in your favor one day." _

Unbeknownst to Tifa, it had – twice. The surveillance camera in that room hadn't worked since they'd installed it, but no one had felt bothered to fix it, and the south side laser security system had blown a circuit – the repair crew had yet to resolve the issue.

The hack drive, on the other hand, worked beautifully, but only after it flashed "Security Breach!" across the screen in bright red letters. Several heart pounding seconds later the light turned green with a happy, "Password Accepted" message.

Tifa's hand relaxed from where it had been clamped over her chest and she slumped against the panel with a groan. When she looked up again, her mind did a double take. Whatever she had expected, it hadn't been this.

The sheer magnitude of information was such that the scrollbar couldn't keep up with the flow. She stood back from it and stared in stunned fascination with a tickling of dread. There were files upon files, from maps of the facility and highly classified projects, to personal journals and saved _card games._

Her skin bristled as she blinked up at the screen – this had to be their network's mainframe for it to have access to so much. It would take weeks to go through all of it and she had about an hour. But Sephiroth had said her answers would be here and she knew where she would find them if they were.

The Jenova Project.

Her heart skipped a beat when it scrolled into view and she reached forward slowly to select it. More sub files appeared, dating all the way back to 30 years ago and to the present. She didn't know where to start. The first one was labeled S (it was not alphabetical). It would have to be him.

She opened it and began to read, a restless anticipation stirring in the pit of her stomach.

Half an hour later and Tifa stepped back slowly; one, two, three times. She regarded the screen, a dark, disturbed expression creasing her face. The last entry echoed like a whisper in the room and an ominous premonition of the future.

Her eyes were fixed on the file currently opened – the last in the saga of Sephiroth.

_**Emergency Rehabilitation Procedure **__dated August the 12__th_

_Chief Scientists aboard: Professor Hojo, Professor Reileigh, Dr. Sha'Lui_

_Subjects: Angeal S. Hewley and Sephiroth V. Crescent. Subject A to undergo test surgery. Subject S to await results before cleared for procedure. _

_**Case notes**_: _...Sectional memory removal and chip implantation in test subject A were a success...Subject A fully recovered and clear for reinstating. Subject S clear to undergo memory removal and chip implantation surgery._

_Duration of memory loss: unknown._

_Chip implant: active, subject unable to move beyond pre-selected boundaries. _

_Cerebral Implant Control: ineffective_

_Emergency shutdown mechanism: active, percentage chance of failure less than 1%_

_Subject survival probability: less than 1 %_

**_Updated, _**_August the 26__th_

_Subject S, sectional memory removal and chip implantation were a success. Clear to be reinstated on 24 hour surveillance. _

_Duration of memory loss: unknown._

_Chip implant: active, subject unable to move beyond pre-selected boundaries. _

_Cerebral Implant Control: ineffective_

_Emergency shutdown mechanism: active, percentage chance of failure less than 1%_

_Subject survival probability: less than 5%_

Tifa's mouth set in a firm line. Sephiroth had been right. She never would've believed this. What this proposed was beyond her powers of perception – it violated the very laws of existence.

Science, it seemed, had no bounds and neither did its practitioners.

She moistened her lips and started the file copying process. It was going to take a while to get all the information onto the drive hacker. Her gaze passed over the room once and reverted back to the monitor.

Fingers tapped restlessly against the panel.

That's when the hydraulic swish of a door slammed her heart against her chest so hard she thought it would burst. Tifa ducked into the darkest alcove she could find and found herself crouched against an aisle of storage pods. She swallowed hard, listening for the intruder.

There was no sound, not even a breath of air. Her shoulders pressed rigidly against the concave glass door behind her as she tried to control her own breathing lest they hear her. It was like a ghost had entered the room.

All she saw in the next fleeting instant was a blur of shadowy red and she was diving to the side in desperation. The figure landed on the floor beside her with a clang of metal against the floor tile. Tifa whirled about and was just in time to duck under the barrel of the biggest pistol she'd ever seen.

She threw a glancing blow off the barrel, knocking it aside, and moved inside of her attacker's range. A hand caught her roughly by the arm as she went for an elbow shot. She was wrenched hard around, but she got her boot hooked behind his plant leg and grappled his wrist.

Her attacker gave a grunt of surprise as he was pitched forward. Tifa maneuvered swiftly, twisting free of his grip and yanking at his gun arm, but his hand bunched in the fabric of her uniform and she was dragged down with him. He hit the floor with a muffled groan, with her on top of him.

Her attacker made a quick shift underneath and Tifa toppled to the side with a muted cry. A brief scuffle ensued, hands clawing wildly at clothes, hair – anything they could find purchase on, until their arms had become entwined and pinned. Neither held the upper hand.

Their gazes locked on and silence permeated the room.

She startled, lips parting in a swift intake of air.

His irises were red, became orange, and ended yellow around the pupil. Her hair prickled along her skin under the intense scrutiny of those eyes; there was dark power there, something beyond the normal dimensions of reality. She squirmed against him sharply.

"Don't." He said in a voice that vibrated in her bones, deep and severe.

Her hold slackened a fraction, but the indignant glare remained fixed on him. He did _not _look like someone who worked here. The high collar of his cloak concealed his chin, long tendrils of raven black hair falling haphazardly around his face and down his back.

"Who are you?" Tifa asked in a low voice.

"I might ask you the same." The man returned evenly.

She frowned, "I'm not one of them, if that's what you're thinking."

"Neither am I."

Tifa arched a dubious brow, "Why did you attack me then?"

The man slowly let go of his hold and sat up, allowing her to do the same. "You might have been a guard."

"Well I'm not." She assured him and dusted herself off. It was a good thing she'd left her helmet behind otherwise he might have killed her outright.

"Your uniform would suggest otherwise." He returned offhandedly.

She sighed, shoulders falling. "I don't know about you, but I haven't seen anyone wearing one of these down here."

"True." He agreed and stood, holstering his pistol before offering her a hand. She accepted and he pulled her to her feet. His gaze roved between her and the computer monitor questioningly.

"I'm not working for Shin-Ra either." Tifa said earnestly. "Regardless of what this looks like."

"I didn't think so." The man pivoted away from her, his cape furling behind him in a shredded cascade of red as he approached the monitor.

Tifa followed close behind, worry nipping at the base of her skull. He might not turn her in, but that didn't mean he wouldn't try and stop her. If he disrupted the file copying process she would have nothing to show for her efforts.

His gaze was fixed on the screen as she approached. "You have been busy."

"You're not going to—"

"No." He fired a reassuring glance her way. "No, but I would like to see for myself what is here."

"Every detail of the facility is here." She told him with a curious look over her shoulder. "What are you looking for?"

The man was silent at first. If it wasn't for the flicker in his eyes she might have thought he hadn't heard her at all. His pale face was haunted by shadows no mere light could cast.

"Answers." He replied after a moment and perused through the Jenova Project files.

"Well what do ya know," She gave a nervous laugh, "I'm here for the same reason."

His eyes narrowed, "Jenova?"

Tifa hesitated with wary regard, "Sephiroth actually."

The man squared himself to her, towering over her mere 5'4 inches, "What interest is he to you?"

"Something personal." She replied evasively.

There was an almost imperceptible sigh as he turned away, "I am not here for him, though perhaps I should be." He admitted with eyes downcast. "This place...it is a curse on the planet – an abomination."

A chill curled against her skin, "What exactly _is _it though?"

He spoke as he read, "It's called Deep Ground – a highly classified super soldier research facility, so far as I can tell. They've been experimenting with Jenova cells on people since the birth of the Jenova project 30 years ago."

Tifa shuddered, brow furrowed deeply, "But I thought...the Nibelheim reactor had storage tanks like these ones here, but there were just a few."

The man shook his head slowly, "The ones here are not like them, or they are not kept long if they are."

Her breath lodged in her throat. That's why the monsters in the abandoned railways never seemed to diminish for very long. They were being fed in through the back gate.

"Hojo has been leaking his failed specimens into the world for years." He went on to say, the razor edge of a knife in his voice. "I should've killed him long ago."

Tifa hugged herself, hands rubbing her arms pensively, "If those are only failed experiments...how many successful ones do you think they have?"

"Think?" He echoed. "If you walk out that door you will see. There are hundreds, perhaps thousands. I couldn't count. Deep Ground spans almost the entirety of Midgar city."

Her mouth fell open aghast, "But...that's an army!" She exclaimed. "What are they going to _do _with them?"

"I don't know..." He scowled darkly, "But as these specimens all contain the Jenova cells, they could be hers within a moment with a puppeteer to pull their strings."

"Oh..." Tifa stilled. A weapon like Sephiroth...the strongest and most capable of impressing his will. He was the perfect candidate.

"What is it?"

"Sephiroth." She murmured. "He's the one she wanted I think. Her puppeteer."

"Is he not hers?" The man challenged.

Tifa shook her head firmly, "No, not anymore at least. I guess...she could come back, if she's alive, but he can't remember and she hasn't been able to reach him yet."

"She lives." There was no room for debate in that statement. "But perhaps there is hope for him still."

"Read the rest." She indicated the opened file on the screen. "You'll understand better."

He did and when he was finished he just shook his head, a cold chuckle filling the room. "Why am I not surprised?" He muttered.

Tifa pulled out her log to check the time. It was getting late. If Sephiroth still planned on hosting his class tonight she would have to get back soon. Assuming either of them were still alive at the end of the night.

It was at that pivotal moment when the floor jerked violently underneath them, accompanied by a low rumbling that petered out in a groan. They both stumbled, grabbing onto each other for balance. Then it was over.

They looked at one another, letting go quickly.

"We shouldn't linger." He advised with a glance upwards.

Tifa felt a baleful shadow settle on the room in the following stillness. She looked back intently at the man beside her, an idea taking root. "Are you familiar with Avalanche?"

"Yes." He answered. "But I am not associated with them."

"Maybe you should be." She hesitantly suggested and unplugged the drive hacker. "Can I ask you a favor?"

He inclined his head, "You may ask."

Tifa held out her hand with the hack drive resting in her opened palm, "I need to get this to Avalanche headquarters, but I don't want to risk getting caught with it back at Shin-Ra HQ."

He accepted the dainty piece of what appeared to be mostly plastic, examining it with idle fascination. His eyes caught hers, "You would give this to me?"

She leveled him with a frank stare, "Will you take it to them for me?"

He contemplated her with a spark of curiosity, "Perhaps you are right." He allowed after a moment and accepted the hack drive. "Yes, I will take it to them."

"Tell them Tifa Lockheart sent you," She said and smirked dryly. "You might get a chance to look at what's on it."

The caped man had silently disappeared into the dark, but his voice drifted back to her with the whisper of a smile, "Vincent Valentine, at your service."

He was gone then and Tifa made for the air duct at a run. Her boot slammed into something on the way and the grate went sprawling across the floor again with a loud grinding noise. She cursed and grabbed the thing, shoving it in a nondescript corner under something, she couldn't tell what. Maybe they wouldn't notice it was missing for another few days.

It didn't matter. She wasn't going to be here when they found it.

After a great deal of undignified squirming, she was back in the ventilation shaft. By the time she was above a hallway again the place was on high alert with guards running, employees jumping out of the way, and a great deal of shouting that she couldn't make out.

Whether because of her, Vincent, or due to the quake she didn't know.

Tifa kept moving, praying fervently that she lived to see the sky again because she'd had about enough of the underground to last her a life time and just assumed have her ashes spread on the surface if it came to that.

Ten minutes later and she was facing an obstacle that hadn't been there before. Laser security beams crisscrossed her path out. This was the heavily locked security door she'd passed by earlier.

"Shit_._" She looked around hopelessly, but there was no other way out.

Tifa grit her teeth and planted her hands against the walls of the air duct on either side. If she was going to do it, she'd have to be fast. They might not know that she'd triggered it from here. If she could get past the first rush of guards she might make it.

Her eyes clenched shut for a moment, teeth grinding. They snapped open and she launched through the laser grid.

Alarms erupted everywhere, a whaling siren that throbbed in the ears. She didn't stop to see what went on below – Tifa was barreling down the air duct like an animal possessed.

There were more guards running below, she could hear their armored footsteps. They were running towards the way she'd come. A resounding gunshot pierced the pandemonium, too distant to concern her, but startling in itself.

_Vincent..._ Everything was riding on him – she hoped he made it out alive.

Perspiration trickled down the back of her neck. It seemed much hotter than before. Her bangs clung to her forehead and the side of her face. She clawed them out of her eyes, her breath heavy and fast.

The air duct took a dive in front of her and she fell down it with a muted crash, onto the homestretch. Another laser mesh security grid waited up ahead, but the color was different. After a brief inspection she felt certain that if she tried to cross it she'd come out the other side in pieces.

Tifa scooted back, wound up her fist, and slammed down with all her strength. The aluminum tore free with a harsh whine and she was falling to the floor below, flailing to get her feet underneath her. Her boots hit the ground at a run.

The exit was just up ahead. Someone shouted out behind her and a barrage of bullets struck the wall over her shoulder. She ducked to the right, pivoted sharply and slammed her fist into the floor with a bone shattering force.

A shockwave split the floor in half, shattering pieces of tile into the air as it streaked down the hall towards the guards in pursuit. Two were able to dive aside; the three behind them were not. Tifa was already running before the first hit the floor, unconscious.

Her lungs heaved in her chest, muscles strained to the max as she swallowed the distance between her and safety. Fine ribbons of red light crisscrossed her way out and she felt her heart begin to sink. The door was blocked.

A second barrage of bullets cut the air and fire split her leg, she stumbled, fell. Another hit her left shoulder and she slammed against the wall, turned, and launched another shockwave. This one was bigger, spreading the width of the hall, and the guards were unable to avoid it.

She whirled back around.

The door was _right there _and she couldn't get through it!

Then it exploded. Tifa dropped, throwing her hands over her head as she hit the floor. Debris launched through the hall, tearing across the walls and tumbling down the way she'd come. The crackle of flames lingered in the aftermath with the stench of sulfur and burning metal.

Tifa stirred slowly. Soot smudged her cheeks and sweat streamed down her face. Her uniform was singed and blackened, the air stiflingly hot.

"Get up!" A voice shouted from outside. She knew that voice.

Her head lifted with a grimace, but she got to her feet and staggered through the gaping, burning hole that had replaced what once had been a door. The laser security system was entirely obliterated.

Gunshots scattered behind her again. She stumbled and dodged to the left, out the door, and hit the ground again. It felt like someone had stuck a hot iron to her leg.

"Come on!" He jerked hand at her, "Get up!"

Magic flared from his finger tips and another explosion sent a cascade of debris crashing down on the exit-way. Flames lapped at stone and metal, a pile of rubble barring the way out for those in pursuit as the dust slowly settled.

Tifa wheezed, pushing off with her good leg. Blood leaked through her fingers where she clasped the bullet wound in her shoulder. She one hopped to where Sephiroth waited, her vision blurred by smoke teary eyes.

As soon as he could reach her, Sephiroth grabbed her free hand and pulled her towards him. She landed against his chest with a painful gasp. Her eyes widened in alarm and she grabbed his collar, eyes blazing up at him.

"They'll kill you." She remonstrated.

"They might." He answered stoically and replaced her helm before lifting her into his arms.

Then they were falling through the air. It felt like her stomach was in her throat when he hit the ground. The impact throbbed in every bullet wound. She tensed against him, spine curling as she buried her face in his chest.

Sephiroth seemed to hesitate between setting her down and keeping her. Fortunately she made the decision for him, squirming quickly from his grasp.

"I can walk." She insisted.

He obliged wordlessly, but put one arm around her lower back, the other slinging her arm over his shoulder.

Tifa felt her throat convulse as she bit down on the pain, "This is madness." She declared and proceeded to hang from him, half limping and half dragged. They had to get away from here quickly, before someone found out he was here – if they didn't know already.

"Yes." He concurred.

She was half-surprised he hadn't dropped dead yet. It wasn't clear whether Sephiroth was still under surveillance now, but she guessed that he could be if someone happened to check.

"Did you feel that shudder a few minutes ago?" She asked. A patch of moss glided under foot and slipped away beneath her.

Sephiroth tightened his grip around her, hoisting her up against his hip before she could fall, "They blew another reactor."

"What?" Tifa tripped, shock plain across her face. "How do you know?"

He shot her an impatient glance, "Headquarters sent word, which is why we should make _haste _before my absence is noted_._"

A new sense of urgency pushed her pace and all thoughts of pain vanished. If Avalanche had really blown another reactor, then Cloud had likely been with them. What other way to prove his allegiance than to go on a mission of such importance?

She had to make sure he was safe.

They were back in the upper section of the sewers in good time. It was entirely due to Sephiroth's efforts for she could barely stand. Her uniform had turned purple where blood had soaked into the fabric.

"How badly are you hit?" His voice caught her by surprise.

"I don't think it's bad." She gasped out. They had maintained the same brisk pace all the way here and showed no signs of slowing down.

"Just the two?" He inquired.

"Yeah."

They turned a corner to the left. Sephiroth gaze was trained ahead, with not so much as a muscle twitching on his face. He wasn't even looking at her when he next spoke, "If the bullets are still imbedded they will have to be removed before magic will do any good."

Her head bobbed with a breathless word of acknowledgment, her left hand now clenched tightly around the collar of his coat. The muscle in her leg was stiffening up and the fade of adrenaline rush giving way to pain. Walking wouldn't be an option for much further.

Then she was swept off the ground without warning as Sephiroth took off at a run. She was too tired to protest and his strength a comfort she did not relish letting go of. Her eyes drifted shut tiredly.

They hadn't gone too far when he came to a sudden stop and set her down on a crate. It was old and rotting, but it held her up.

"What are you doing?" She asked with an anxious glance ahead of them. They needed to get back.

His eyes caught hers briefly and he produced a leather satchel from the folds of his coat. It unraveled, revealing an array of crude looking medical tools, one of which was a standard set of forceps; there were scissors and pliers as well. Her heart slammed against her chest and she scooted away, her back firmly against the wall.

Sephiroth picked up the forceps and handed her a leather thong.

"Put this in your mouth." He directed. "I will try to make this quick."

Her eyes went wide, "You're going to do it right now?"

His gaze lifted sharply to hers, "You'd rather wait till we're above ground and risk being taken to the infirmary?"

Tifa snatched the leather thong from him with a narrow look, "Fine." She relented and a tremble traveled up her spine as she placed the leather between her teeth.

She didn't think about how many other mouths it had been in. In light of what was about to happen, she didn't really care. Sephiroth positioned himself behind her, his hands brushing lightly against her flesh as he carefully snipped back the fabric of her uniform.

"Take a deep breath." Was all the warning she got.

He was not subtle. Her vision went white with stars and it was all she could do not to jerk away. A strangled groan got passed her, but she wanted to scream. Tears pricked at her eyes when she felt a searing, fiery jerk, followed by empty relief.

A soothing coolness trickled over the wound, dousing the fiery sting as the skin slowly knitted together over the hole.

"Now breathe." He told her and came around to her side, "It would be best if you knelt for this last one."

Tifa gave an absent nod and stood, shifting around so that she was kneeling facing the crate,with Sephiroth at her back.

She barely had time to ready herself before her leg was paralyzed with pain. It was a good thing he had her pinned to the floor with his weight or she might have launched him into the sewage flow behind him. It was over with before she realized and the cooling relief of curaga settled into her muscles once again.

Sephiroth collected his tools and stashed them away before stepping aside. She hopped off the crate, testing the newly healed injuries. There was still a dull throb in both areas, but it would do.

"Ready?" He questioned.

Tifa looked over her shoulder at him, an awkward frown gracing her features, "Thank you." She murmured and offered a tight smile that trailed off as she turned away. "I'm sorry."

Sephiroth gazed after her fervently, his features chiseled with emotions unaccustomed to lining his face.

"Are you coming?" She stopped to face him uncertainly.

Her voice wrenched him back to reality and he set off after her without a word.

They hadn't far to go now. The ladder to above ground was just ahead. Sephiroth mounted it first, being the stronger of the two. He could handle the manhole cover without difficulty. Behind him, Tifa waited in brooding darkness.

"How did you know?" She asked softly. "About the chip I mean."

" They wanted us to know." He replied.

The manhole cover clattered to the pavement above and light spilled into the hole. Sephiroth climbed out and turned to offer her a hand. She took it and he pulled her gently to her feet.

"But didn't they erase your memories?" She continued, thoughts whirling through her head in a jumbled mess.

"Selectively." He corrected. "What they erased of mine was minimal, but I have no recollection of anything that passed within that brief window of time."

"So you really don't know then." Tifa said, knowing this was true, but needing to voice it anyway, to have him answer to her face.

He leveled her with a weary frown.

"Alright," She sighed. "But why the interest in me?"

Sephiroth looked away despondently. "I don't know." He relented. "I know you, as clearly as you know me, but I don't remember how or where I met you."

The memory would always haunt her she realized, despite the thin, but existing layer of trust he'd managed to garner. Tifa shut her eyes tightly and exhaled slowly out her nose. Her mind was so focused on that simple task that his voice startled her.

"What is your name?"

She blinked, "What?"

"Your real name." He repeated calmly.

Tifa stiffened. That was the only secret she still kept. The thought of giving it away to him left her feeling distinctly vulnerable.

Sephiroth lowered his gaze to the ground before turning away with resignation, "We must go."

She had to jog awkwardly to catch up with him. He didn't say anything, nor did he appear affronted by her refusal to answer his question – just tired. Guilt festered in her chest and she sighed inwardly, "It's Tifa."

His eyes, when they settled on her for just a moment, were like stars in a black velvet sky, "A pleasure to meet you, Tifa."

* * *

Sephiroth set off at a brisk jog through the abandoned streets, ears trained to the uneven footsteps of the woman behind him lest she fall too far behind. He was not concerned with himself as he was about her. What Shin-Ra did to him was of no consequence now, but she was another matter.

So when he heard the faint scrape of her boots as she skidded to a sudden halt, he pulled up short as well, irritation warring with concern across his face. He turned around, poising himself for a lecture on punctuality, when he saw the look in her eyes and stopped himself. His gaze automatically followed hers

There was a young man standing on the curb, blond hair spiked in unlikely angles that reminded him painfully of someone he once knew. He wore an old SOLDIER uniform, but it was clear by the rest of his attire that he was no longer a member.

But it was the girl in the pink dress with a perfect smile to match her eyes and a wicker basket of flowers that drew his attention the hardest.

The boy met that effervescent gaze with shy, uncertain wonder and she cocked her head to one side in amusement. He smiled self consciously, scratching the back of his neck, and made a flippant comment that caused her to laugh. The exchange ended shortly after as the young man walked away with three of her daisies, the girl in the pink dress watching him long after he had gone from sight.

For a fleeting instant, Sephiroth felt the same pull against his senses, but it was not enough to grab his attention from the woman on his right, whose stunned expression left nothing to question. His chest tightened painfully. He was inexplicably assailed by the urge to reach out to her.

And when Tifa flinched under his scrutiny as her gaze met his, the emotion that haunted him was mirrored in her eyes. Only it was not for him, but someone else.

_Longing..._

Sephiroth inhaled sharply, bending his emotions back into line and whirled away with an order over his shoulder, "Let's go."

* * *

**Author's Notes: **This chapter was brutalizing. I feel like a punching bag. I'm not satisfied with this. There's something wrong, I can feel it, but I don't know what else to _do. _

FYI, I have never played Dirge of Cerberus and so I have very limited knowledge of what actually took place in Deep Ground, but I have done _some_ research. I'm throwing in canon characters from the compilation left and right, but perhaps not according _to _canon. So you'll have to expect discrepancies...but it's AU, so I can do that, mwahahaha.

That's right, Vincent got out of his coffin by himself. Because any self-respecting man ought to after thirty years of sulking.

No hard feelings Valentine, I still love you. In a totally not romantic sort of way. Even if you are rather nice looking.

Happy Halloween everyone!


	13. Chapter 13

**The Warrior**

_Chapter 13_

I think this is the largest chapter to date...I hope you've got an ample chunk of time.

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* * *

  
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Looking through the wired glass window panel into the gray walls of what might be his final resting place, Corporal Midge had a sudden epiphany; no amount of vacation pay was worth the risk of excruciating pain and dismemberment, possibly crucifixion – and that was a _good_ day. His steps leading up to this point had been the sounding of a gong as it announced his final minutes on earth.

Now, he hesitated before the threshold, dreading the last few feet with every fiber of his being. That this was the lesser of two impending dooms only confirmed that he was indeed the most pathetic human being on earth, soon to be in past tense.

And that was saying something.

Corporal Midge shifted back and forth on his feet. Perhaps he would take a wiz first. One last go before the end – a send off of his meager existence into the afterlife.

That thought alone was enough to make a grown man cry. Was that _it_? He knew he should've brought the last slice of cheesecake with him to work today.

The door burst open with enough force to send the Corporal screaming hysterically at the top of his lungs down the hallway. But not today; today he would be brave. Today he was too paralyzed with abject terror at the receding hairline of the spectacled man standing in the doorway, pure loathing oozing from his sneer, to move.

"What!" Spittle spattered Corporal Midge's visor and he winced. The man's eyes had a truly manic gleam, with fingers taught in preparation to pounce with unrestrained zeal.

"U-uh...uh..." The Corporal's voice was failing him, caught somewhere between his shrinking ball-sacks and the lump of horror forming in the pit of his stomach.

The scientist's gaze narrowed dangerously before he whirled around and slammed the door in the Corporal's face with a harsh utterance of "Imbecile".

Corporal Midge was impressed by his bladder control as the door came perilously close to clipping his nose. No leakage yet.

He took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders, and pushed that door back open with a determination never before experienced by the likes of him. If he was going to die today, by the Gods he would do it with _dignity_.

Hojo was hunched over what appeared to be a human body with his back turned as Corporal Midge entered. A string of muttering drifted to Midges ears and he closed the door quietly behind him. The scientist did not so much as twitch and continued his tirade without falter.

"Yes, yes...of course I can..." He shifted around the table, making an incision in the body's arm from the inside of the elbow to the wrist. "Just wait...I will show you unimaginative, brain-dead fools...skewer you like the pigs that you are..." There was a burst of deranged laughter as he shoved an implement into the elbow joint of the body with great force, "_Then _we'll see who is begging...you fat, blithering slob."

Corporal Midge was analyzing the odds in his head that he would survive this encounter and wondering what had possessed him to barge into the lab when a voice interrupted him.

"Speak or _get out!" _Hojo had somehow come to be staring at him, the gleam possibly even more manic.

"S-sir!" The Soldier offered an absurd salute, gathering his bearings with a swift intake of air that threatened to burst from his lungs in a diarrhea of disorganized words. It was all he could do to remain coherent as he steeled himself for the next part, "I...that is...Sephiroth was spotted at the back entrance to the Deep Ground facility."

Hojo straightened, his eyes hard and appraising as he sized up the uniformed goon, sharp implements held perfectly still in his hands, "When."

"Not 30 minutes ago."

With agonizing slowness Hojo lowered his utensils to the table, oblivious to the Corporal's riveted attention on them. There was an inaudible sigh of relief from the Soldier and an almost imperceptible slackening of his shoulders. He might live through this yet.

Hojo was staring off into space when he spoke, in a slow, ominous drawl that curled under the Corporal's skin, which felt distinctly creepy, "Yes." He set his chin on the knuckles of his fist, his opposite hand bracing his elbow. "Very good, yes."

Corporal Midge straightened with rigidness reminiscent of a piece of lumber. " Sir?" He queried with a quavering voice. Sephiroth's presence had coincided with the incident that left a gaping hole in the backdoor of the facility. How was that _good?_

"You've done well..." Hojo trailed off with a distasteful look at the Soldier and waved dismissively, "—whoever you are. It doesn't matter. Shoo, and don't forget about our little discussion."

Midge shifted nervously.

The scientist's eyes narrowed, "You _do_ remember, don't you?" He skittered across the room so fast the Corporal's head was still spinning when he found himself looking at his reflection in the man's rounded glasses.

"Y-yes sir!" The Corporal saluted again.

"Not so much as a _breath_ of this information will reach the President's, or anyone else's, ears, yes?" Hojo managed to loom his mere 5'7 height over Midge's respectable 6'2 with a vengeance worthy of Sephiroth himself.

_Creepy. _

A lump bobbed in Corporal Midge's throat that he was fervently grateful didn't show beneath his collared uniform. "Of course, sir." Another salute – his arm seemed to be rather active today.

"Now get out of my sight."

The back of Hojo's lab coat was still imprinted on Corporal Midge's brain as he fled the lab. He ran and kept running, no distance being safe enough to quench his fear. Not until he was well and secure at his post, monitoring the General on the big flat screen and playing Spider Solitaire on the side, did he pause to revel in the novelty that was breathing.

* * *

Tifa's feet moved of their own volition, a hollow cadence to the deafening beat of her heart. The turmoil of emotions that whirled through her had left in their wake an empty detachment. More than once she looked back, long gone though he was, while the wings of fate set her adrift farther yet from the one person she wanted desperately to be near to.

Ahead of her Sephiroth stalked wordlessly. He had been putting more distance between them while she slowed exponentially with each step. The urge to turn and run was strong still.

But Avalanche wanted her here so this is where she stayed.

She released a shuddering breath and lifted her head to the back of the man in front of her. His coat billowed behind him as his gaze parted the sea of frantic people littering the street. The tight set of his shoulders advised her to remain quiet because whatever it was that had set him off was not out of his system just yet.

He had snapped at her. The transformation was sudden and startling, and surprisingly...upsetting. Why? At one time Tifa would've happily devised any number of satisfying ways in which to incite his wrath, but now that she had, it brought her no joy and it certainly was not satisfying.

She didn't even know why he was angry with her!

At least they were making good time. Tifa could smell something faint in the air like burning rubber and rotting eggs, and the throngs of people were growing in size. They were getting closer – too late to be of any use probably, but then they had all been too late to this disaster.

The people in the streets seemed not to notice them at first, with their attention directed towards the core of the damage up ahead, but Sephiroth was an impossible figure to miss or ignore. She saw it an instant too late and the bottle missed by inches as it sailed past his head to shatter on the curb. Everything came to a standstill in the concurring silence.

Tifa whirled around in a vain attempt to locate the perpetrator. "Hey!" She shouted indignantly though no one was about to volunteer themselves. "What was that for?!"

"Some General you are." A voice bit out. "Where were you when they set the bomb this time? Getting your hair done?"

Those words dropped upon the tense silence like a pin, lingering for a few choice seconds, and then pandemonium broke out.

"You coward!"

Someone shoved Tifa between the shoulder blades and knocked her sprawling into a crowd of people. Hands grabbed and pulled, pinched and punched at whatever they could find. She felt her helm shift and reached up frantically to slam it back down, which hurt, but her identity was momentarily saved.

"Go back to the salon, coward!"

"Did you forget to get your nails done?"

It was a battle just keeping her feet underneath her. She elbowed, ducked, and shoved her way through, sometimes throwing bodies out of her way, until she reached where she'd last seen Sephiroth. There was no sign of him and with her diminutive height amidst this writhing mob she was not likely to ever get one.

They pressed in around her on all sides, clouding her senses with the pungent odor of sweat and fear. She staggered, nearly falling to her knees, but grappled frantically to keep her balance. To fall here would undoubtedly be a death sentence – she had never seen the like.

In her increasing panic, Tifa called out to him, but her voice was lost in the deafening cacophony of shouting. She felt as light as air, tossed about on the tide of furious hands. They were not paying attention to her, but to move her out of the way.

He was the one they wanted.

A hand clamped around her bicep suddenly and she jerked around, ready to bolt, when she met cat pupils and iridescent green. She was instantly overcome with relief and relaxed. He gripped her hard, almost painfully, and regarded her with a pointed look.

Tifa nodded mutely and kept close to his back as he turned and lead the way through the masses. No one tried to stop him, though the jeers and taunts continued at full force. But while they might question his courage, no one was eager to make themselves a test subject to his capabilities as a fighter.

There was a man up ahead of them to the right with graying hair and a curled lip. She didn't know why she took notice of him, except that something in his hateful stare alarmed her. If she hadn't been struck by that sudden feeling, she never would have known it was him who spoke as they passed.

"All yer good for is killin' unarmed folks, eh?" The man sneered.

Sephiroth stopped so sharply she might have careened into him had she not been slightly prepared for something to go terribly awry. She glanced apprehensively between the two, hands tensing at her sides.

"What did you say?" Sephiroth regarded the man sharply.

"Easy guttin' them's unarmed." The man continued harshly. "Just like ye did them poor folks in Nibelheim, eh? Easy when them don't fight back."

There was a split second wherein a look of absolute horror flitted across Sephiroth's face. It was gone in the blink of an eye, a cold, pitiless mask in its place as he gazed down at the man. Tifa saw the way he was strangling the life out of the hilt of his sword though, saw the way his eyes were brittle enough to shatter.

"I do not know what—"

The man spit in his face. He didn't even let Sephiroth finish – he just _spit _in his face!

Tifa reacted without thinking and the next thing she knew the man was out cold on the pavement. In the ensuing silence she grabbed Sephiroth by the arm and tugged him away without looking back. She couldn't recall a time when she'd hit a person harder.

And he hadn't even been armed.

It was merciful blessing that Sephiroth allowed her to lead him away. The mob, it seemed, had lost its enthusiasm and was falling back. She wanted nothing more than to be gone from this place, despite what lay ahead.

She perhaps should've been more disturbed by the realization that she was looking forward to the death and destruction that awaited them as opposed to what they'd just come out of. But none of them knew what their carelessness might have caused. _She_ didn't know for that matter, but she wasn't taking any chances. He'd gone mad once – he could do it again at the slightest provocation.

If Sephiroth had an intention of asking her about it though, he ran out of time when Angeal spotted them from down the way. Two of the Turks were standing where he'd just left to come meet her and her charge. The shadow over his face darkened considerably as he looked at his friend.

"Where were you?" He demanded in a hushed tone laced with carefully contained fury. His gaze shifted momentarily to Tifa and the crevices of his brow deepened.

"_Investigating,_" was Sephiroth's scathing reply, accentuated by a meaningful stare.

The two men held each other's gaze for several tension filled seconds before Angeal finally broke it off. He spared a second glance her way, confusion still muddling his troubled eyes, but he said nothing. "Right," His shoulders seemed to give beneath an invisible weight as he turned away, "Come on then."

Only one of the Turks remained when they followed Angeal back. Tifa recognized him as their current head, but it was her first time seeing him in the flesh. His face was a mask, smooth as porcelain and just as unmoving. If it were possible, he looked even less emotionless in person than he did in his photos.

A shiver traveled down Tifa's spine; he reminded her of an empty husk. She averted her gaze slowly and hoped that this conversation was quick. As a flunky she wasn't required to do talking, nor was she likely to draw much attention...except for the fact that she was currently _Sephiroth's _flunky.

"Who is this?" Tseng asked immediately.

The panic widening Tifas eyes was thankfully hidden behind her helmet. Her boots made a scraping sound as she shifted her feet, her head bowed towards the ground out of nervous habit. She fought the urge to put her hands behind her back and worry them.

"He's my trainee." Sephiroth cut in smoothly and with a supercilious tilt of his chin in her direction, added, "And he was just heading back to Head Quarters."

Her jaw fell open indignantly at him and she was preparing to protest when he leveled her with a emphatic glare. She cleared her throat nervously and tried to quell the tremble working its way up her throat, "Yes sir." It came out more like a mumble, but no one was grading her on her execution.

He had better not.

Then she turned around and made her escape.

On the train back Tifa pulled out her phone. It was brimming with messages that eagerly beamed up at her from the screen. Her lips thinned as she skimmed the list of names.

_Ah_, Murphy.

_Date Received ......._

_ Dead? Oh..._

It was the most poignant message the mystery person had sent her, as well as the briefest. Tifa felt something settle in her bones, like a cold foreboding draft. Just as the dark cloud that seemed to hang perpetually over Angeal's head, so did it clench in her chest.

What kind of evil could be so dark?

The train ground to a halt in front of Shin-Ra's Head Quarters and Tifa stepped down onto the empty platform. No one was coming or going right then, perhaps because they were all out combing the city for signs of the resistance. It didn't matter.

She peered up at the towering building for a long time with growing unease. It occurred to her that the odds of her surviving this entire ordeal were probably well under fifty percent. A shuddering breath clouded the evening air; there was really only one person who had the power to keep her alive.

And it seemed as though he might try, to the detriment of his health – possibly his life.

None of it made any sense. How did she even warrant his consideration? She was nobody. What could be his ulterior motive in helping her?

Tifa pushed her way through the glass doors into the building and headed towards the stairs. Raised voices drew her attention towards the reception desk and she cocked her head curiously at the discussion taking place. She wasn't supposed to take notice, but then, if the argument escalated much further she might be called forth to escort someone out.

That someone being the man with short, sandy blonde hair and a pair of flight goggles pushed up around his hair line. He wore a blue jacket with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and a scarf around his neck, like one of those old time pilots she'd seen in pictures as a child. His leather gloved hands gestured wildly as his voice rose in volume.

"What do ya _mean _he's busy?!" He leaned over the desk menacingly, a cigarette dangling precariously from the corner of his mouth. It bounced with every word, dropping ash onto the table, which the stewardess eyed with intense displeasure. "The meeting was arranged _2 months ago!"_

"I'm sorry sir," The woman said with strained politeness, "but you must have seen the damages – everyone is working very hard. You will just have to wait I'm afraid."

"Wait!" He repeated with a bark of harsh laughter and thrust an accusing finger in her face, "I've been _waiting _for five fucking years!"

The woman huffed, her bobbed blonde hair bouncing indignantly, "I understand your concern, Mr. Highwind, but there is nothing I can do at this time. If you would please leave the name and number of your hotel, I will have someone contact you as soon as Mr. Tuesti is free to see you."

"How long might that _be_?" Mr. Highwind inquired menacingly.

"Not more than a day I should think." She replied primly. Her sharp blue eyes pierced him thoroughly, "Is that acceptable?"

Mr. Highwind acknowledged her with a grunt as he grabbed a notepad from the counter and hastily scribbled the requested information. When he finished he handed it back to her without a word and turned to go.

"Thank you sir."

Tifa was in the process of moving again when the man caught her staring. He snatched the cigarette from his mouth with scowl, "What are you lookin' at?" he snapped. The words had barely left his mouth before he was on his way with not so much as a glance back.

Her gaze followed him out curiously. She hadn't seen many civilians about, let alone anyone from out of town. What business did he have with Shin-Ra that brought him so far from home?

"They cut his space program five years ago." The receptionists offered.

Tifa glanced at the front desk in surprise, but the lady had already gone back to whatever she was doing. No more information seemed forthcoming, so she mounted the stairs and made for the elevator. She didn't know if Sephiroth still intended to hold his class tonight, but with him she couldn't assume anything.

There was enough time to grab a bite to eat at the food court and then head to the simulator to wait. She was nearly half an hour early, so when the operating room turned out to be occupied she was suitably startled. Her breath hitched in her throat.

"How did you get here so fast?" She exasperated.

His back was to her, but he lifted his head a fraction at her words, "I only just arrived." He murmured distractedly as he perused the simulator's settings.

Tifa wandered up beside him hesitantly, "What did they say?"

"What did who say?"

"Angeal and Tseng." She clarified.

"Nothing of value." Sephiroth answered languidly.

Tifa fought to contain a huff of impatience, "That's all? You didn't get in trouble?"

He leveled her with a scowl, "I do not answer to either of them, nor do I _get in trouble, _as you so eloquently put it. Do I look like a juvenile delinquent to you?"

She had to hide behind the collar of her uniform, not trusting herself to speak. Her silence was deafening.

Sephiroth positively glowered at her, "Am I to assume that's a yes?" He inquired with an arched brow, his body looming over hers in an imposing manner.

It was meant to be imposing at any rate, but all Tifa could think about was how close in proximity he was to her and the sudden heat flooding the room. She inhaled shakily, glad that her eyes were partially hidden. If they hadn't been she was certain his would have peeled back her defenses like the skin of a ripe mango.

As it were he caught himself and straightened stiffly. "I see." He muttered and turned back to the computer panel.

"No." She said quickly. He didn't look up so she continued. "I don't think that. It's just...you seem the type that might have engaged in a few minor transgressions as a teenager – I thought it funny."

He made a noncommittal sound that might have been an acknowledgement or a dismissal, she wasn't sure. A minute or so passed before he finished what he was doing and averted his attention back to her. His expression was alarmingly...contemplative.

"Who was he?"

The question totally blindsided her. "What?"

"The young man in the street – he was wearing a SOLDIER 1st class uniform." Sephiroth indicated more sharply than was necessary. "You knew him."

Tifa worked her jaw mutely. What could she say? But her hesitation had already spoken too much and she could see it in the way he watched her. If she didn't say anything he might come to his own conclusions.

"Y-yes." She managed awkwardly, her brow knitting together as she puzzled that quandary. "I know him...kind of."

"Kind of?" He echoed dubiously.

She gripped her wrist in the opposite hand behind her back and took great interest in the wall behind him. "I don't know him very well but...we grew up together."

"And should I expect hostility?" Sephiroth continued with a sigh of resignation.

Tifa looked away despondently, "Probably – I don't really know though, how much he remembers of..."

"Nibelheim."

Her eyes met his sharply, "Yes."

"That man–"

"—was obviously senile." Tifa supplied evenly. "Don't worry about it."

He watched her with a perceptiveness that was unnerving, but he said nothing, for which she was grateful. There was no helping the fact that he now suspected something of what happened, but he didn't _remember, _and that was key. She wouldn't tell him if her life depended on it either.

"It's almost time." Tifa announced unnecessarily.

She desperately wanted to guide the topic of discussion to more tame waters. This bizarre sort of intimacy was starting to draw attention to more than she was willing to contemplate right then. His eyes, for instance, should not be appealing whatsoever, nor should the way he in which was looking at her leave her feeling breathless.

Sephiroth turned away and the moment was gone. "Yes." He concurred and made for the door to the Simulator, where he hesitated in order to say, "As a forewarning – I intend to make you a team captain."

"You…you can't be serious." He had already disappeared, forcing her to chase him down with the might of her fury.

He smiled wickedly as he faced her abruptly, "Oh, but I am."

"Why?!" Her voice gained an octave.

"This was your idea. I expect you to own up to your claims." Sephiroth replied.

"_My _idea?!" Tifa demanded and took an involuntary step towards him. "I said that _you_ should try being a leader for a change!"

"And you," He lowered his nose to the shield of her visor, "Will be my second in command."

Tifa back stepped. "I'm…I'm not a leader." She complained weakly. "I can't be your second in command."

He arched a single brow, "One good deed deserves another, yes?"

She squirmed in puzzlement, "I don't understand."

Sephiroth swept past her, "You want me to lead, so I will lead, and I will teach you to do the same in return."

"But—"

He stopped and looked at her sternly, "You are more than capable of this task." His voice shook her with its resonance, "Do you mean to say that you are too afraid to try?"

Tifa swallowed hard at the implication therein and shook her head an infinitesimal amount, "No."

"Good." Sephiroth nodded curtly, before adding in afterthought, "And _Fry_?"

She blinked up at him, uncertain at his use of her fake name, "Yes?"

"Just between you and I," His eyes flashed and he leaned over her shoulder, his mouth hovering by her ear, though it was concealed by her helm, "I do not bat for the other team."

Tifa couldn't help the smile she wore as he pulled back to look at her face on again. "Of course not sir."

It was ten till when the first arrivals came through the door looking distinctly uncomfortable. There were five in the first group, none of which she recognized. Some of them were 3rd class Soldiers, all of them were quiet as they regarded the Legend.

There were 21 people standing within the Simulator when the clock ticked 7:00 p.m., she and Sephiroth included. Tifa's presence had not gone unnoticed, but aside from a few lingering glances nothing was said. She tried to stand apart from the procession as much as possible, waiting.

Sephiroth did a quick roll call before addressing the group as they waited with varying degrees of anticipation. "These sessions," He began, "will consist of group battle tactics training. The idea is to improve your skills as leaders and followers, to work as a team, and to build trust between you and your comrades."

A restless silence broke out as he paused, looking each of them over critically. The gentle creak of leather and scuff of a boot were the only sounds heard, their eyes following him with ardent interest. He did not disappoint.

"There will be two teams." He wiggled his middle and index fingers for them to see, "I will assign to each a captain."

The group was collectively holding their breath. Meanwhile Tifa cowered behind her visor and now pursed her lips disapprovingly, soon to be in terror. This was a terrible idea. No one was going to listen to her – they all thought she was loopy.

But Sephiroth wouldn't have that and from the look he shot her, he was not going to have any complaints from her either. "There will be no arguing in this matter. You will show proper respect and cooperation for whomever I choose, understood?"

There was a resonating chorus of, "Yes Sir."

He paced in front of them, hands clasped behind his back. When he stopped and turned to address them again, he called her name, "Fry. Step forward please."

Tifa took a deep breath and walked slowly to stand next to him before risking a glance at her fellow Soldiers. Their helms, though hiding their expressions, were all tuned to her. A tightening of a jaw or the wrinkling of a nose was the only indication of unrest.

"You will lead Team A." Sephiroth announced and looked over the procession, daring them to speak out against his decision. When nothing came, he continued, "And I will lead Team B."

Tifa cast him a look of pure vitriol, but he was carefully _not _looking at her. Of course he waited to drop that bomb on her when she wasn't in a position to protest. Not without severe repercussions at any rate.

"Sir," Someone had finally worked up the nerve to speak.

Sephiroth regarded the Soldier calmly, "Yes?"

The man shifted uncomfortably under that penetrating stare, "Is that really fair?"

"That is what we are here to find out." He returned. "If I am given reason to believe that either of us is unworthy of the task, I will make changes accordingly. Until then, you will do as your respective captain commands."

"Yes Sir." The Soldier replied quietly.

"Now then, if there are no more questions, you, _Fry_," He emphasized her nickname with a scowl, "Will choose first."

She stared hopelessly into the unreadable masks of SOLDIERs she'd never seen before and was at a loss. How was she supposed to know who to pick? Her lips parted in a muddled groan as she skimmed over each one, taking into account every arbitrary attribute that might help this go a little faster.

Her first choice was one of the taller ones, but it was his posture that ultimately decided it. His shoulders were broad and his posture impeccably straight. Completely arbitrary, but he _looked _good. The SOLDIER in question joined her side without a word and turned to face the others.

They continued back and forth, until all present were spoken for. Sephiroth was left a man short, but this seemed not to bother him and he made no mention of it as he set up the Simulator. He pulled her aside one last time then.

"The object of the game," He told her, "is to defeat all of the opposing team's members, or capture their captain." His lips frame a devious smirk, "Good luck with that."

"How are we supposed to 'defeat' someone?" She asked coolly.

"You will see." And that was that.

The Simulator shifted to an outdoor setting of an uneven landscape littered with trees and tall shrubbery. There would be lots of cover, Tifa noted. She and her team were standing in a small clearing, each of them bearing a green ribbon around their arms. Her eyes drifted to the ground at her feet where they screeched to a halt.

"Oh my god..." She couldn't help herself as she stooped to retrieve the object in question; it was a paintball gun. There was also a back pack, which turned out to be filled with paintballs, naturally.

When she straightened and turned, she found herself faced with ten expectant visors.

Tifa had to wonder how Sephiroth was going to teach her to be a leader when he was currently across the map from her, but she digressed. He was clearly a fan of trial and error. Specifically the 'throw them into an impossible situation and _force_ them to figure it out' kind.

"Alright," Tifa sighed inwardly and cast a wary glance at the surrounding teams. "Who here feels comfortable climbing trees?"

And so the game began.

They had all listened to her, some more reluctantly than others. She had no idea what she was doing, but that didn't seem to matter. It took nearly three hours to determine the victor, and that came down to an unscrupulous shot to the back.

Sephiroth still wasn't speaking to her.

In Tifa's defense, it had been a long shot, but that's what you got for making a long ranged weapon the instrument of attack where your opponent was trained in sniping. It just went to show that what she said was right; he was an inexperienced leader.

Not that she really thought any less of him for it – he was still incredibly skilled with a sword, but this wasn't about combat skills. This was about tactics, and she had won with a lucky shot to the back to capture the opposing team's leader. Up to that point they had been easily matched, four against four.

It felt strange. Sephiroth wasn't supposed to lose, not at anything.

On the bright side, Tifa had secured the majority of her team's trust with their narrow victory. There was no slandering or jeering and they left the Simulator in high spirits. She watched them go, lingering behind as the last of the class filed out the door.

...which left her with him.

"And you say you cannot lead." It was neither encouraging nor unkind. He left then, without another word, and never looked back.

Tifa felt inexplicably small inside that empty room; small, and disappointed. The sudden realization that she had actually looked forward to talking to him again was sobering. That wasn't supposed to happen!.

Evidently it had...

And now he was angry with her for the second time in one day. She didn't even _want _to lead! It had been pure luck that she beat him at all! But Sephiroth was not accustomed to losing under an circumstances. How much had it cost him?

Tifa sighed and removed her helm, running her fingers through her hair.

After a time she returned to the control room, replacing her helm. She fiddled around with the settings until she'd found what she wanted and then re-entered the Simulator. It was a wide expanse of grassy plains with a shooting range and a mock sniper rifle.

She didn't feel like going back for hers right then and she hadn't practiced in a while.

Nearly an hour had gone by when the hydraulic door slid open. She turned in surprise with a surge of hope and was summarily deflated. The figure standing rigidly in the door way was almost her reflection, but for the 3rd class uniform, a few more inches of height, and the assault rifle currently pointed at her chest.

His visor was down, but hers she realized – too late – was not. She couldn't see through the scope with her visor down and had not thought to put it back when she turned around. Stupid, stupid, _stupid! _

"What in the _fuck_?" He shoved up his visor, greatly resembling a goosed chicken as he gawked at her. The assault rifle was all but forgotten in his hands as it sagged towards the floor.

By now Tifa recognized him as the SOLDIER that had accosted her in the food court a while back – Dev was his name. She had never seen him, but his voice was familiar, not to mention his charming disposition.

She was afraid to move. On the one hand, he might fill her full of holes regardless of her gender – on the other, he might turn her in, which would be just as bad, if not worse. There was no good way to go about this.

Dev shook his head in disbelief. "You've got to be _shittin' _me. Take that off," He gestured to her helmet lazily.

Tifa complied reluctantly. Her hair was still held back by a hairnet, but there was no mistaking what she was. She removed that too after a moment, allowing her hair to fall loosely about her shoulders.

He snorted, threw back his head, and burst out laughing. "Of all the—are you insane?!"

Her lips thinned. "What did you come here for?"

Dev made a face, "Nothin'." He shrugged. "Just thought I'd give ya a little warning is all."

"A beating you mean." Tifa clarified crisply.

"Hey I don't hit girls." He shot back defensively.

Now it was _her_ turn to laugh. "That's rich." She said. "You don't hit girls, but it's perfectly okay to beat the daylights out of some poor kid who _you_ think isn't man enough."

"It's bad enough Sephiroth being a fucking homo," He shot back, "we don't need more of their kind around here."

Her eyes narrowed a fraction, "I'd like to see you say that to his face."

"Of course," He continued snidely, "maybe you did suck him off after all to get in his good graces."

The door opened again, providing Tifa her window of opportunity. She closed the distance in three swift strides, disarmed him, and with an apologetic glance at the person that had just arrived (who happened to be Angeal), punched Dev square in the mouth – knocked loose a tooth too. He hit the floor with a strangled cry and spitting blood, while Tifa pivoted to face her superior officer.

A black tuxedo cat trotted up behind him to sit at Angeals feet, eyes half-lidded and smug.

Angeal looked from her to Dev, and back to her in stunned silence. He blinked once, twice, raked back his hair with a harsh expulsion of air, and shook his head. Then he rubbed his eyes, just to make sure that what he thought he saw was _what he saw_, which didn't help in the least bit either.

The fat was in the fire and sizzling madly.

"Sir, I—"

Angeal held up his hand, silencing her and turned to the man still writhing on the floor. "Dev," He barked, "Meet me in my office tomorrow morning at 0900 hours. Get yourself to the infirmary."

Dev got to his feet, eying Tifa warily as he staggered through the door and left.

Her heart rate must have broken records. Was it possible to self-combust? That might be preferable under the present circumstances.

Angeal didn't say anything for a long time. His arms were crossed over his chest as he took great interest in the floor, fingers tapping a rhythm on his arm. When he lifted his head the harsh lines of his face relaxed, eyes bright and clear.

"I don't know what alarms me more, Miss Lockhart." He said, "You being a woman, or the fact that I didn't see it sooner."

She smiled wanly, "People really do tend to see what they expect."

"You did the part well."

"But not well enough." What now she wondered?

Angeal contemplated her curiously, "Why would you say that?"

Tifa blinked up at him, confused, "You know who I am, don't you?"

"Yes, I know." He admitted and looked away shamefaced. "I saw you that night in the Reactor. You were unconscious."

"You saved him." It was not an accusation.

Agneal nodded solemnly.

"Why?"

He looked away and a shadow passed over his face, "He is the closest thing to a family I have left. A sad reality perhaps, under the circumstances."

A pertinent meow interrupted them as Sodlier draped his body against Angeal's leg. He looked up with a clearly affronted expression.

Tifa caught herself smiling a little. "Are you sure about that?" She inquired lightly.

He chuckled dryly and stooped to pick up his charge, rubbing affectionately behind the cat's ears as he straightened. "Well, perhaps not all."

She was surprised at the calm that came over her as she spoke again, "I understand you know...and I don't blame you for it."

Angeal made a grim smile, "You may yet eat those words I'm afraid."

She nodded.

He turned to her abruptly, "I have a favor to ask of you. You needn't feel pressured to accept – I will keep your secret regardless, but..."

Her head cocked to one side, "What do you need?"

Angeal he cleared his throat, his eyes having trouble focusing on her, "I cannot save him." He said quietly, "But you... I have never seen him so... intense about anyone before – he is drawn to you, for some reason."

Tifa felt her heart constrict in her chest and suddenly she couldn't breathe. Some part of her had felt it, yes, but having it told to her face by an outside observer gave it reality. And how did she feel about it?

"If he can be saved," He continued, "I would see it done. Whatever you might think, he's worth it, you know."

"I know." She murmured.

Angeal met her eyes with a glimmer of hope, "Will you help him?"

"I'll do my best, Angeal."

* * *

On one of Shin-Ra HQ's many floors there was a dark, not quite empty, corridor. The dormitories were quiet, but not silent, for there was a murmur of cautious footfall and nervous breathing. It moved towards the last door at the far end of the hall.

There was also the muttering commentary of a colorful nature floating from the slight figure standing at that very same door to which, unbeknownst to said figure, another approached.

Anxiety shook the fingers that pried into the control panel on the wall to the left of the door. Spools of wire spilled out in bright colors as the aluminum cover was pulled away. Well that wasn't helpful. Why couldn't they just stick with _three _colors like normal people did?

How was she supposed to effectively hotwire anything with a mess like this?

A huff of indignation cut the still air and tousled her black bangs where they scraped her forehead. She fought the temptation to stomp her foot and grabbed a random wire, fully prepared to snip it.

"You could try knocking."

"AHHH!" She spun around, executed a juke that would have made her dad proud, and pounced with a vengeance on the tall figure that had snuck up behind her.

"Hey! What the—" The male person in question swerved into the wall under the sudden weight of the scrawny creature attached to his back like a leach. "Get off me!" He hissed.

Was she _growling?_ He shook himself and reached up to toss her off – he was reasonably sure it was a she at any rate. He hadn't heard many men with that ability to shriek.

Small, but vice like hands, caught his wrist. Then there were teeth and a sudden explosion of pain where they dug into the outside edge of his hand.

"Ouch!" He staggered into the opposite wall with a resonating thud, incidentally crushing his rider's leg between his body and the wall, which allowed him to extract his hand from her mouth. "_Stop _that!"

"What are ya doin' here ya sneaky Shin-Ra scum!" She cried out defiantly and yanked at his hair.

"Sneaky—" His eyes watered and he grappled for her arms again in bewildered indignation, "_I'm_ not hotwiring someone's door at 2:45 in the morning – Hold it down dammit!"

She squirmed out of his grasp, her legs still firmly wrapped around his waist. "Oh yeah?!" She retorted suspiciously, "Then what are ya doin' here!"

"I was going to knock on the door like _respectable_ people do." He grumbled. "Let go of my hair you crazy banshee! You'll have the whole bloody building on top of us!"

"Quit yelling then!"

"Get off me!"

"I'm goin' in there first!"

"By all means! Off. _Now!_"

"Fine."

* * *

The sheets were gone. Where had the sheets gone? They must have gotten pulled off in her sleep, or maybe Sephiroth had just removed them.

What was he doing here anyway? And why were they in the same bed?

Tifa shifted uncomfortably. Something was pulling on her hair. She reached back, grasping the thick braid it was in and shaking it. It behaved like it was caught on something, pulling against her head, and it was longer than she remembered.

Since when did she braid her hair?

She twisted around irritably. Then it really pulled and she suddenly understood why.

Perfect silver strands wove seamlessly with her brown ones. His back was to her in slumber, oblivious to this awkward state of affairs. Someone had braided their hair together in the night.

In a distant part of her mind she wondered why the fact that sharing a bed with Sephiroth didn't alarm her. This was perfectly normal, apparently. In fact, she was far more disturbed that someone had evidently snuck into their room while they were asleep.

_"So what are ya doin' here?" _

It had to have been Chaka. Only Chaka would do something so ridiculously silly and hope to survive Sephiroth's wrath.

_"What are __you__ doing here?"_

But Chaka was out on a mission. He wasn't supposed to get back until tomorrow...or was it the next day? He couldn't have done it. Had their hair braided itself?

_"I asked first!"_

Tifa toyed with waking Sephiroth to ask him if he had done it when a loud banging sound interrupted her. The body beside her went slightly rigid in wakefulness. There was an incoherent groan, followed by a sleepy slur.

"Wha-iz-it now?"

The banging intensified in volume and urgency.

"_Why don't ya just break it?" _

Tifa fought with her sleepiness, only half aware that the sound reverberating through her ears was not a figment of her dreamscape.

_"I can't." _

Sephiroth sat up wide awake then, looking grouchy and perplexed, mumbling. She hadn't understood a word of it.

"_Hahahahaha! Some SOLDIER you are." _

"I'll get it," Tifa and Sephiroth had spoken at the same time as they both jumped up from the bed.

Their hair went taught with a jerk.

And Tifa crashed to the floor with a muffled exclamation of surprise, her eyes wide and sleep ridden. Relief flooded her senses as her room came into focus. The same small bunk, her uniform discarded at the foot of it, and most importantly, no silver haired men.

Just another dream, she repeated, knocking her head lightly against her knuckles as she tried fervently to erase the image currently burned into her brain.

"Not to _mention," _There was someone outside her door whispering. "Someone's bound to notice if we just tore the door down."

She jumped out of her skin when her door erupted with an insistent pounding again. Tifa was on her feet instantly and glancing frantically around for an escape that wasn't there. Maybe if she pretended she wasn't here?

There was a curse from outside the door then, "Damn it, Fry!" The familiar voice rippled across her skin with a shiver, "Get your lazy ass up!"

"Chaka?" She blurted out. "What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be back until tomorr—."

"Yeah! What are you doing here?!" Came another voice.

"Would you _shut up_?!" He shot back at his squeaky companion, "Fry, I swear I'll explain everything – I'll shave my head and bear your babies—" There was a distinct edge of panic in his voice that disturbed her, "—if you'll just open the goddamn door."

"Wait a second—" The squeaky voice interjected before Tifa could even begin to formulate a reply, "_You're_ gonna have someone's _babies_?!"

_Oh dear..._

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Have I mentioned that this story is going to be really long? Because it's definitely going to be long. Which brings to question why it's taking such a god-awful long time for me to update it. Must...work...faster...

I hope this was worth the wait. I may take forever, but no one can say I shirk in the word-count department! Happy Holidays everybody - you're the best!

Review? Pretty please? With a ginormous cherry on top?

Faerlyte


	14. Chapter 14

**The Warrior**

_Chapter 14_

At long last.._.  
_

_

* * *

  
_

_Previously in Chapter 13..._

"Chaka?" She blurted out. "What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be back until tomorr—."

"Yeah! What are you doing here?!" Came another voice.

"Would you _shut up_?!" He shot back at his squeaky companion, "Fry, I swear I'll explain everything – I'll shave my head and bear your babies—" There was a distinct edge of panic in his voice that disturbed her, "—if you'll just open the goddamn door."

"Wait a second—" The squeaky voice interjected before Tifa could even begin to formulate a reply, "_You're_ gonna have someone's _babies_?!"

_Oh dear..._

_

* * *

  
_

Tifa writhed in place, one foot poised to flee, the other towards the door. There was no escape. Clothed in flannel shorts and a t-shirt, she couldn't hide her more obvious female characteristics. On the other hand, half of the building would probably know the truth by tomorrow morning anyway, so why not?

"Oh alright." She fumbled in the dark with the control panel until a satisfying swish announced that the door was open.

Chaka had made the mistake of trying to enter first and was swiftly apprehended by a much shorter person, who cried out, "Me first!" as she stomped purposely on his foot and elbowed him in the ribs. She staggered into the room, attempted to shove Chaka back out into the hall, to which he shoved her helm down over her eyes and wrestled his way back in.

Tifa hastily shut the door behind them and whirled back around, lips thinned, "That's it." She whispered vehemently. "Cut it out, both of you!"

Chaka quickly disentangled himself from the squirming SOLDIER attached to his back. His helm had been lost and his eyes were matched by the brightness of his teeth as he grinned down at her, "Heya Fry."

Her cheeks felt warm as she crossed her arms over her chest self-consciously. She couldn't decide which foot to rest her weight on and settled awkwardly back down on her bed. "Is that all you have to say?"

"How do ya mean?" His brow furrowed as he idly straightened his uniform.

Tifa fought a frown as she spread her arms out dramatically, "Oh I don't know...the fact that I've got boobs comes to mind."

Chaka made a great show of tilting over sideways to get a look at her and gave up with a chortle of laughter when he lost his balance. With a dignified clearing of his throat, he straightened. "Well see," he began with a sheepish smile creeping onto his face, "I was pretty much close to about...100% sure you weren't a guy after sparring."

Her mouth opened aghast, eyes widening and narrowing in quick succession.

"Hey now," He began in his defense, hands out, "I can't help but notice a few things in close quarters, ya?"

Tifa's mouth shut with a click. "Wait, so the bear your babies thing...?"

He cleared his throat uncomfortably as he eyed the far wall with false intensity, "Yeah that. Desperate times call for desperate measures, right? Don't give Hojo any ideas – I wouldn't put it past him to try."

"Ya know, maybe comin' in here was a bad idea..." The nameless SOLDIER interjected with a nervous step towards the door.

Chaka blinked in bewilderment, "Huh? Oh...OH! Noooo...no no no no." He was shaking every body part that was free as he looked rapidly between Tifa and the nameless SOLDIER. "We're not – no. Not doing that. Definitely not. Didn't mean it. Joke. I was kidding. I mean, not that Fry here isn't – shit, forget it, forget I said anything."

Tifa smiled into the palm of her hand. "Don't worry about it. I guess it's just as well you already knew now that everyone else does."

Her friend balked, "Say what?"

She shrugged nonchalantly, fighting down the rise of panic at the thought that she might wake up to her own execution in the morning. "I wasn't exactly trying to advertise it."

"So what the hell happened?" Chaka demanded with an affronted scowl.

Tifa looked between him and his now silent companion. There was something familiar about that one, but she couldn't place it. She shook the thought away and addressed Chaka's question with some reservation, "That guy, Dev, came by the Simulator last night, when I was there alone."

A muscle twitched in Chaka's jaw. He tapped his fingers against his elbow rhythmically.

"I'd been practicing my...uh..." She licked her lips, eyes shifting uneasily between Chaka and the wall behind him. "Shooting. I hadn't done it in a while, so...anyway, my visor was up when Dev startled me. He knew immediately of course and made me take the helmet off."

"That's when Angeal showed up, naturally." Her shoulders slumped with a sigh. "I had a fantastic day."

"Fuck." Chaka grinned, slapping his knee in amusement, "Sephiroth is gonna shit a _brick_ when he finds out."

Tifa regarded him flatly, "He already knows – _has _known for a couple days now."

Her friend was seemed positively affronted, "Wait - how did he find out?"

"I lost my helmet in the sewers during a flood – he was trying to help me at the time, so he saw everything." She answered. "I don't know why he didn't turn me in."

Chaka rubbed his chin as a mischievous glint took hold, "Well I'll be damned, and I had my money on him being a eunuch."

An abashed gasp lurched out of Tifa's throat, "What? That's ridiculous. Why would he be?!"

"He's not?" There was genuine astonishment from the third party. "I mean...well..."

The room fell abruptly silent. Chaka was staring at her in a manner that Tifa found distinctly unnerving and revealing, as if he knew something she did not.

"And how do you _know_?" He inquired cheekily.

"Because!" Tifa retorted in exasperation as she sought desperately to avert the course of their conversation. "Oh for Gaia's sake, why are we even_ talking_ about this?"

Chaka shrugged and took a seat on the floor with his back propped against the cupboard. "Beats talking about my weekend."

The light mood evaporated with a hush. Tifa stole a concerned glance his way and forged ahead, "So what happened? What's going on?"

"Did some chick tie ya naked to a bed and run off with yer money?" The short one asked with something that sounded disturbingly like glee.

A weary sigh from Chaka effectively silenced her—it....mostly.

"Fine, geeze. I was just sayin'..."

Tifa shook her head lightly and waited for him to continue.

His fingers twitched with nervous energy where they worried the edge of his pant leg with a rapid back and forth motion. The tap of his boot against the floor was jerky and fast as he spoke, "I went out to take a piss after dinner..."

"Wh—"

"_When _the whole goddamn camp blew up." Chaka cut in shortly with a meaningful glare. "And when I say it blew up, I mean, it fucking _blew up. _Knocked me ten feet back and flat on my ass."

"Ugh, that's _gross! _Did you pee on yourself?"

"Didn't check – wanna smell it for me?" He started to lean towards her, eliciting a horrified shriek from the SOLDIER as she scrambled back. Chaka snorted as he sat back down. "I was pretty much throwin' my guts up at the time, so I didn't notice – burning flesh bein' a somewhat nauseating smell, if you catch my drift..."

"Oh."

"Gods above..." Tifa bit down as her own stomach tightened uncomfortably, "What happened?"

"I got the hell out of there before who ever planted the bomb found out I was still kicking." Chaka replied. "And proceeded to run myself ragged to the nearest town where this crazy ass pilot was givin' his plane a test run to Midgar. Don't know what the hell he was doing up by bone village, but it sure as hell saved my ass. Gave me a free ride. And the most excruciating leg cramps I've ever experienced."

"How did you get here so fast though?" Tifa asked.

Chaka met her gaze with a shrug, "He might be half crazy, but he sure can fly. I got here this afternoon – been hiding ever since."

Tifa leaned forward worriedly, "You think someone was trying to kill you?"

"Someone _is _tryin' to kill me." He clarified and cast a wary glance towards the door. "It's what's in that damn crater that's started this – someone doesn't want someone else to know about it."

"What crater?" The peanut gallery re-entered the conversation with renewed zeal.

"On the northern continent, ya?" He answered automatically before continuing, his brown eyes shining more intensely now as he leaned forward. "It's Genesis man. In the flesh! He's encased in some...some crystallized lifestream or something. Shit if I know, but this blue haired dude –and I mean he had a lion's mane of blue hair – he came with us, seemed really adamant about Genesis and this black materia. I'm almost positive he's the mother fucker who stuck enough nitro to incinerate the town of Junon into our dinky three tent camp."

Tifa swallowed hard. "What are you going to do? I'm sure Angeal could—"

Chaka released a vehement string of curses, "I'm not goin' back. This place is a goddamn cesspool of inbred sociopaths – I know Shin-Ra's is at the heart of this mess – doesn't matter that Shin-Ra SOLDIERS got killed. Don't know how, probably don't want to know, but I'm not stickin' around to have my nuts cut off by some crazy as shit scientist."

"Why'd ya come back here then?" The short one asked curiously.

"Who the hell knows." He mumbled and raked his hands over his face. "I had to tell someone. I don't know what to do. Didn't know where else to go."

"It's alright, Chaka." Tifa assured him. "I'm glad you told me. I still think Angeal should know though, I think he'd help us."

He snorted. "Good luck findin' a place that isn't under surveillance around here. They don't let him just leave."

"I know!" Their erstwhile companion piped in excitedly.

All eyes turned to the nameless SOLDIER.

"I mean, I've got a place, uh..." She trailed off.

Silence permeated the room for a short while.

"So...just out of curiosity...who are you?" Tifa asked tentatively then.

The young SOLDIER leaped to her feet and executed a series of complicated martial arts moves that ended with a resounding fist pump into the air, "I am the great ninja Yuf – ah – Murphy!"

"Yufamurphy?" Chaka repeated deadpan, his brow furrowed deeply. "Is that like some kind of play off of infomercial? Yufamercial?"

Murphy whirled around, "_Murphy,"_ and proceeded to kick him square in the junk.

Chaka hit the floor in with a resounding exclamation and a heavy thump.

"What in the – Chaka, are you alright?!" Tifa dropped at his side and fired a withering glance at the one called 'Murphy'. "What are you doing?!"

"I...uh...always wanted to try it?" She offered lamely. Her head strayed back to the man writhing on the floor in obvious pain. A mixture of gurgles and groans emanated from his general vicinity. Murphy edged closer to him, peaking out guiltily from under her helm. "Um...you okay?"

He lifted his hand sharply, warding her off, and made an inarticulate sound in the back of his throat.

The room was quiet and still until Chaka made a move to sit up. He coughed, pale as he would ever be, and leveled Murphy with a murderous glare. "What--"

"I'm sorry!" She blurted out hastily, hands clasped in front of her in a heartfelt plea. "And uh...my name s'not really Murphy."

Chaka squinted up at her with a pitiful groan, "You are bat-shit crazy kid."

She huffed indignantly. "_You're _a dirty no-count sleazy Shin-Ra flunky – seemed like a good idea to me. Name's Yuffie, by the way. _The _Yuffie Kisaragi, greatest Ninja warrior of Wutai." She explained with flourish.

The dark man snorted, "You mean _junior _ninja warrior."

But Yuffie had forged ahead obliviously, having cornered Tifa on her bed. "Where's my materia anyway?"

Tifa threw her head back with a strangled moan. "It's too _early _for this!"

"No shit." Chaka grumbled and started to sag to the side. "I haven't slept in two days."

"This spot's mine!" Yuffie promptly cried out and, pilfering a pillow from Tifa's bed, spread out at the doorway to the bathroom. Thirty seconds later she was snoring.

Tifa glanced at Chaka to find him already sprawled out too, eyes peacefully closed. He certainly deserved some rest – the same might not be said of her other newly acquired roommate, but she was too tired to argue. She sighed, retrieving her last pillow, and carefully propped it under Chaka's head.

In the course of what felt like years, but was more like ten minutes, her life had been turned upside down. And she'd thought it was complicated before.

* * *

When Tifa awoke, it was to an empty room. Her head was back on her pillow, the spare on the floor where Yuffie had been hours before. She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and glanced at the door.

Hopefully they'd made amends and were not at present killing each other.

After some shuffling about, brushing her teeth and getting into her uniform, she noticed the note on her counter. It had been written in haste with a pencil._ Where had they scrounged up that? _No one used pencil and paper around here...not very often at least. A power outage would be a killer.

Tifa squinted down at the jaggedly written note.

_Fry,_

_ The midget here...(scribbled out word)...is hauling me off somewhere – probably to my death. She says you should walk by the simulator today on your way to breakfast. I tried to explain that breakfast is not on that floor, but she insists. _

_ Save me,_

_ Chaka_

Tifa looked at her clock for the first time that morning. It was 6:00 am. She wanted to curl up in her bed and go back to sleep. Damn this whole military business. She hadn't had a good night sleep in weeks.

Hunger would probably have to wait too.

To the Simulator it was then.

She stepped out of the elevator, having suffered a moment of weakness, and was walking nonchalantly down the hall when a panel on the wall to her right was inexplicably flung open in front of her. Hands seized her immediately and dragged her inside.

...A broom closet.

Tifa blinked in bewilderment, dimly aware of her two companions as they bickered amongst themselves about something, "Where did this come from?"

It was very...small, and the floor was concrete. Between the three of them – her, Chaka, and Yuffie – they had about four feet of empty space to spare all around. There was a small bunk that had been built into the wall, some old shelves containing a mess of wiring, miniature surveillance screens, and tech gadgets humming softly, and a mop that looked like it was from the dark ages. There was even an old mop bucket to match.

"Old storage room." Yuffie shrugged. "Built over it when they refurbished the building I guess. Even left a souvenir!" She waved the mop around happily. "Ya want it?"

Tifa had to shake herself a little. "What are we doing?"

"You're dragging Angeal's ass over here." Chaka announced with a candid nod of his head.

"I am?"

"He's got to know." He asserted firmly. "This is the only safe place we can all talk...figure out what the hell is going on."

"Okay..." Tifa trailed off tiredly.

"Don't forget my materia!" Yuffie cried before adding in a hushed whisper. "Coast is clear!"

Tifa was in the midst of replying when she was unceremoniously shoved back out into the hall with a grunt. "I'm not hauling a bag of stolen materia around in broad daylight." She said as the panel was closed behind her, effectively cutting her off.

The hall was still empty. She glanced around idly before meandering back towards the elevator and taking it to Angeal's floor. No one was about, probably because they were eating, or sleeping, if they had that luxury today.

And naturally, Angeal wasn't in his office.

Tifa let her head fall against the wall with a dull thud. She wondered vaguely if she was expected to be at the gym this morning. Of course, things being as they were, it probably didn't matter anymore.

But Angeal was probably at the gym, and she was supposed to bring Angeal. Life was much easier with a clear cut task, even if accomplishing it involved some...difficulties.

It was around 6:30 when she arrived, which meant the early goers were just starting to trickle in for the morning workout. Tifa was two winks from falling asleep on her feet when she caught a glimmer of silver hair in her peripheral vision. The results were surprisingly likened to having ice cold water poured over your head...while wearing a white t-shirt...and no bra.

She was immediately bright eyed, bushy-tailed and _horribly_ aware of his eyes flickering towards her.

"Shit..." Tifa made a sound akin to a whimper as she boldly approached the two men conversing quietly at the head of the room.

When the eddy of conversation petered out at her approach, everyone in the room suddenly turned to look at her. She inhaled deeply, making eye contact only with Angeal as she came to a stop before them. Not that they could see her eyes with the visor on, but that was beside the point.

"Angeal," Oh god, what was she supposed to say? "Uh...we have problem."

Angeal regarded her with a deeply troubled expression. He was probably expecting something worse than what she was about to announce. Although he looked more like he was about to cry than anything, which was some cause for worry.

But Tifa didn't have time to ask what was wrong.

"Rats, sir." She conveyed with as much gravity as she could muster. "They've, uh, infested the...the 64th floor. I need you to come with me, right now." And without further ado, she grabbed him by the wrist and proceeded to haul him bodily out of the room.

Sephiroth's perplexed gaze never left her until she and Angeal had disappeared out the door.

To her immense relief, Angeal remained silent, having probably caught on that, whatever this was about, it wasn't rats. The elevator was occupied on the way up so there was no opportunity to clarify the situation. Tifa wasn't even sure what she would say if she could.

When they reached the 64th floor there was no one about. Fortune smiled upon her once more.

"Fry—" Angeal began to speak, his voice choked with emotion.

Tifa held up a silencing hand and hastened down the hall, wracking her memory for which was the right panel, and nearly ran into it. She jumped back with a startled gasp and ducked inside quickly.

"What in the—"

Angeal was yanked in after her before he could finish his sentence. Then he was looking at Chaka as if he'd never seen him before, or maybe like he was standing before the Goddess Gaia herself.

"Chaka?" He echoed, somewhere between disbelief and exultation. "But you...I got the message...this—this morning."

"Yeah, about that..." Chaka trailed off. "We need to talk."

Angeal glanced around with a slight frown, "Where are we?"

"Broom closet." Yuffie offered.

"And who are you?" He continued, his expression comically confused.

"I'm the great—"

"Murphy." Tifa and Chaka supplied in unison.

"Hey!"

"Codename Murphy." Tifa offered.

"Her real name is Yuffie Kisawagi."

"It's Kisaragi!"

Angeal raised his hands to his temples and began to massage them slow and meticulously, "I think I may need some more coffee."

"I've got instant if ya want any.." Yuffie reached into a ratty blue backpack and procured a small, aluminum package. She waved it triumphantly in his face.

Chaka gave Angeal a consoling clap on the back. "Buck up man, it's going to get much, much worse."

"Oh hell." An old mop bucket was produced and placed expertly under Angeal's sagging form as he sat down.

It was a bit of a tight fit, what with four of them crammed in there together, but it was manageable. Yuffie had freed up some space by curling up in her bunk. Tifa sat down in the corner opposite Angeal, her boots almost, but not quite touching his, and Chaka remained standing.

Angeal combed back his hair with a trembling hand. "Better start at the beginning then."

* * *

Sephiroth had never before used the phrase 'dying of curiosity', but he was fairly sure that if he didn't find out what was going on soon, he would self-implode. He'd already bellowed at three different SOLDIERS for groaning too loudly during exercises. It'd never been this quiet during a workout before; a spider could've scurried across the floor and he would've heard all eight legs touch the mat.

The workout finished up fifteen minutes early, the first and last time in history it ever would. They were so perplexed by the phenomena that Sephiroth had to outright leave for reality to sink in. As far as he knew, they were still waiting.

He was marching down the hall with a purpose that frightened all in his path. His coat was billowing with extra fervor today. For one terrifying instant he almost felt petulant enough to punch a wall.

Why had she come for Angeal and not him?

He was inexplicably furious about it. She had not dragged Angeal away because of a _rat _infestation. So he'd blown her off the night before after having lost to her, inconceivably – it had been a long never since someone had beaten him at anything.

He'd assuaged his wounded pride with the knowledge that it was his expert eye that had recognized her hidden potential.

...Which had summarily shredded his dignity...in front of several people.

Low and behold, his day was about to take another steep plunge. Sephiroth really didn't know where he was going. They were on the 64th floor, if Tifa had been honest in her declaration, but where on the 64th floor was anybody's guess. He automatically assumed the Simulator.

And then he heard voices. They were muffled, but he could definitely hear them. He stopped and, had he not been in the process of spinning around – rather swiftly – he might have avoided the door that was not a door as it was flung open and into his face.

He never had a chance.

The world was spinning above him. Bright lights...it reminded him of TV static actually. When was the last time he'd felt this peculiar sensation? For that matter, when was the last time he'd seen TV static?

An alarmed voice broke into his awareness.

"Oh my god!" Tifa's face came into sharp focus as she knelt over him, worry creasing her forehead. "I'm so sorry! You...you turned around and I..."

Sephiroth was in the process of sitting up when he felt the sudden and rapid flow of warmth trickling over his mouth. He lifted his hand instinctively to catch the blood, throwing his head back and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Holy shit!" That sounded vaguely like Chaka, which was impossible. "You broke his nose!"

"I didn't mean to." Tifa mumbled and reappeared at his side bearing a wad of paper towels. "Here." She held them out to his face.

He accepted them wordlessly.

"Get in here, before someone finds us with our pants down." Chaka's Ghost was speaking again. That blow had rattled him more than he expected.

"Coming." Tifa huffed and gave Sephiroth a firm push in the back. "Forward, march." She stifled a giggle as she followed him into what he could only determine was a very old, out of date storage room.

"How's the nose?" Angeal was standing to his left. The amused look on his face didn't suit him; no, not at all.

Sephroth ground his teeth. It was difficult to make severe eye contact with anyone when his neck was craned back and his face pointed toward the ceiling.

"Here." Before he knew it he was sitting on an upturned bucket faced with none other than Tifa. She was wielding a rolled up piece of paper towel. "Stick it up your nose."

The humiliation...was horrifying.

And then she had the nerve to _smile_.

Sephiroth gave an overly dramatic sigh, his resolve rendering to dust, and did as he was told. He never felt so mortified in his entire life, but it was worth it.. He found himself inexplicably wanting to see that smile again, because it was honest and beautiful. And aimed more or less in his direction.

Tifa disposed of his bloodied rag into a makeshift garbage can and returned with her bottom lip caught in her teeth. "I didn't really break it did I?"

He shook his head.

"Oh. Good." She exhaled in relief. "So you're okay?"

He nodded.

Silence. "Are you...going to talk at all?" She ventured finally.

Sephiroth closed his eyes briefly, opening them again to take in every detail of his surroundings, as well as the people in it. There was no doubting that this was beyond bizarre. If he didn't know better, he'd say someone had slipped him a hallucinogen.

Wutai's little princess was wedged into a minuscule bunk that looked like it had been cut out of the wall. A dead man was standing, quite clearly in one healthy piece, off to his left. Angeal looked a little green around the edges...quite the party. It was absurd, and yet, ridiculously comforting.

"To what do I owe the.......pleasure?" He said at last, eying each person heavily in turn.

It was Angeal who came forward first and with the propensity of a sucker punch to the gut, "Genesis is alive."

Sephiroth wanted to burst out in hysteric laughter. It was sorely tempting as he stared uncomprehendingly at his long time friend. This was beyond absurd. Not one, but two dead mean back to the living? Chaka he could more easily understand, but Genesis?

That put a chill in his bones that he couldn't shake. Perhaps that is why he knew, despite the sheer improbability, that it was true. But he had more experience with science than any person should, and he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that nothing was beyond the reach of someone willing to go there.

And there was Jenova too, an entity that he kept as far apart from his mind as humanly possibly, or inhumanly. He couldn't even say why he did, but whenever she came into his thoughts he felt a queer shiver of apprehension, and quickly shoved her back out.

It was possible that she had kept Genesis alive within the lifestream, somehow. Her cells were extraordinarily...resilient.

Sephiroth bowed his head into his hands, his hair a curtain over his face.

A firm hand gripped him by the shoulder, "Sephiroth." Angeal voice sounded sedate in his ear, a parody of the turmoil that roiled within himself.

He inhaled sharply. "He'll want to finish the job this time."

Angeal nodded, though Sephiroth didn't see it. "I would think so...Chaka says they – whoever is responsible for eliminating his team – are looking for the black materia."

Sephiroth lifted his head, eyes narrowing, "Black Materia? I've no knowledge of this."

His friend shook his head pensively in turn, "Neither do I."

"Geeze, do they teach you guys _anything_?" Yuffie blurted out with an emphatic eye-roll before declaring haughtily, "It's the most destructive magic on the planet, duh. As old as the Ancients supposedly."

"And?" Sephiroth inquired pointedly. "Where is it then?"

She shrugged, "Dunno. My tutor sort of changed the topic – 'course that might have had somethin' to do with the maniacal gleam in my eyes when she dropped the word 'materia'."

No one seemed inclined to dignify that with an answer. After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence Angeal lifted his head with a thought, "I wonder...if perhaps a Cetra might know the answer..."

Sephiroth sat up slowly, a shadow darkening his eyes. "It would seem...likely." He hedged, "But we all know they are extinct."

The two long time friends exchanged a hard look.

Tifa blinked, feeling a shiver roll across her skin, like someone had walked over her grave. Green eyes – bright, ethereal, and full of something that she couldn't quite name invaded her thoughts without provocation. Cetra were like fairy tales practically, and yet...

"They're not really, are they?" She addressed Spehiroth quietly.

He caught her eyes right then, "No, not quite. You would remember her..." He trailed off with an edge of irritation.

"Yes," She continued uncertainly, "She sold me flowers once...was selling flowers to Cl- - that...that man...yesterday. It's her, isn't it?"

Sephiroth nodded.

Angeal rubbed tiredly at the back of his neck, "Shin-Ra has had the Turks dogging her steps for a while now – it seems our illustrious president wants her to find him the promised land."

"The _what_?" Chaka and Yuffie spoke in unanimous incredulity.

"Hojo would probably give every bone in his body if he thought he could survive and still get his hands on her." Sephiroth explained.

Tifa shuddered, "That's horrible – what does he want her for?"

The silver haired man gave a dry chuckle, "She is the last of her kind. What couldn't you do, with science at your fingertips?"

"Well...is there anything we can do?" Tifa asked helplessly. "She might know where the black materia is – we could ask her at the very least."

Sephiroth and Angeal both just shook their heads. The former answered first, "Neither I nor Angeal can do anything without inviting suspicion. It would be best in fact, to seek out some way of breaking the the mechanism that has been installed in both of us. I sense that Tseng is not yet ready to take her...he's had ample opportunity over the years, but has mysteriously let her go."

"Her?" Chaka looked around somewhat confused.

"The Cetra." Sephiroth clarified simply. "Ultimately, we must be free in order to face Genesis, which is an eventuality we cannot avoid."

"No one knows where the trigger to the implants are." Angeal argued with a dismissive wave of his hand. "We'd be chasing our tails."

Sephiroth's eyes settled on Tifa with a perceptive glint, "Is this true?"

She glanced away uncomfortably, "There might be a way...it depends. I don't know yet." Her brow furrowed in such a way as to beg that he not question her further. They might not be as receptive to her working as a spy.

He gave her an emphatic look before shifting around to address the others, "There is a well guarded underground research facility, beneath Midgar and the slums." He explained with a nod towards Angeal, "That is where we were yesterday, when the second reactor was blown. "

Angeal acknowledged him mutely.

"I could not go inside, but—"

"Tifa could." Chaka finished. "Bit risky, isn't it? Sending her in like that?"

"I didn't force her." Sephiroth explained with an undercurrent of frustration, because ultimately he had manipulated her into doing it, and nearly got her killed. That was the last thing he'd wanted. "And I doubt she came out without something to show for her effort."

"I didn't." She relented. "All the information regarding the...operations that you and Angeal underwent was there – I didn't look far enough to see whether it mentioned the people who possessed keys to the host computer though, and...it is no longer within my possession."

"Whose is it in then?" Angeal asked, faintly exasperated.

"I..." Tifa shut her mouth, unable to continue.

"Someone better suited for extracting the data I would imagine." Sephiroth intervened smoothly. "And once this is done, Tifa can tell us what our next step must be."

A grateful smile shyly met the corner of his eye as Tifa sighed in relief.

"So...what's that mean anyway?" Yuffie piped in as she squished a packet of liquid coffee with restless fingers.

Angeal unraveled his arms, "We wait."

"What about Chaka?" Tifa asked.

"He can stay here...if he wants I mean." The Wutai princess offered. "Kinda cramped and stuff, but not so bad."

Chaka made a face.

"It would be best were he not in the building." Sephiroth interjected. "There is no telling how long the wait will be, or if Chaka would even partake in...whatever it is we are doing."

"Shit, I'm up to my hair in this now." He answered. "Might as well stick it out. I'm in."

"I can find him a place outside." Yuffie said. "Wouldn't be hard smugglin' him out."

Sephiroth looked to Chaka, "It is up to you."

The dark skinned man rolled his eyes, "Oh hell, why not! What doesn't kill you makes you stronger – that's what they say anyway. I'll let pipsqueak here get me out."

"Hey!" A wrestling match ensued in the corner of the room.

Angeal reached out, grasping Sephiroth's arm, "We shouldn't linger here."

"No, we shouldn't." He agreed, sparing a final glance in Tifa's direction.

"I might need the day off." She said.

"You will have it." He assured her.

Yuffie scrambled to her cupboard of mini-monitors, verifying the empty hall before calling out, "Coast is clear!"

The three of them exited together and immediately split up, or so Tifa thought. It wasn't until she'd reached the stairs that she realized she was being followed. When she spun around, Sephiroth was right behind her, sans the wad of paper towel stuck up his nose and the blood covering his chin. She let out a tiny sigh of relief that it was not someone else and waited, wondering what he'd tracked her down for.

He gripped her by the arm softly, his eyes boring into hers through the visor. Then her helmet was gone, lifted away by his opposite hand. His lips parted as if to speak, but nothing was forthcoming. There was something...lost...about his expression. Tifa's breath hitched in her throat, unable to deny the effect their close proximity was having. She almost wanted to reach out to him, but knew that she couldn't – not yet, maybe not ever. She didn't know.

In the time it took for her to analyze her feelings he had closed the distance between them. She found herself paralyzed by the slow, deliberate lowering of his head, and then the tentative brush of his lips against her mouth. Tifa closed her eyes, the feeling tingling on her skin and amassing within her belly in confusion and no small amount of desire. It was agonizingly brief, completely sincere, and utterly confusing.

Sephiroth pulled away smoothly, his eyes uncertain and his cheeks colored as he watched her, waiting.

"Sephiroth..." She breathed, and it was difficult to say what she knew she had to, "I...can't."

His mouth framed a soft, barely perceptible smile as he bowed his head. "I know." He answered quietly and stepped past her, "I guess...I couldn't help myself. Gaia knows what's got into me" He turned at the bottom of the stairs, gazing up at her over his shoulder, "When – if you are able to find anything, Angeal is to take priority, understood?"

Tifa frowned in bewilderment, "But...what do you mean?"

"Do this for me." Sephiroth reiterated earnestly. "If anyone can survive, it will be me. Angeal cannot, therefore..he must take priority."

Something prickled her eyes as she nodded, "Alright."

Sephiroth rounded the corner then, leaving her alone in the staircase to analyze the convoluted chain of events that continued to spin her round and round. It was like...spinning on a swing. She would be dizzy for a while.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Life has taken me by storm yet again. And then my computer died...sigh. But I didn't lose any of my writing so it could have been much worse. I don't know how this stands up to my other chapters, but I like it for the most part. I'm not happy with my rate of updating obviously...feels like I'm not getting anywhere, but this story has a ways to go yet. So...if the chapters seem slow...yeah...I think so too. I need to step up my game. Maybe, now that certain life issues have been resolved, I might be able to focus more on this.

Anyhow, here's to hoping that everyone who is still keeping tabs on me has enjoyed this read. Take care everyone,

Faerlyte


	15. Chapter 15

**The Warrior**

Chapter 15

My smallest chapter thus far is 5800 words. Wow. Oh, and this isn't it if you were wondering.

* * *

There was a message from Jesse on Tifa's phone designating a time and meeting place – it had been sent at 3 in the morning. Checking the time, that left her with barely an hour to get there.

Tifa had to elbow her way through the crowds of people on the train just to find a reasonable place to stand. Then she waited, listening to snippets of conversations as some began and others ended. Most of them were focused on the President's upcoming address to the city and the implications behind the recent attacks on the reactors. Sephiroth's name was thrown back and forth with some reservation, but nothing to draw too much attention.

More people were getting off on Sector 7 today than the last time she'd come through. Tifa had stashed her uniform before boarding the train and was able to blend in well enough, but it was slow going through the wave of bodies leaving the station.

Her stomach felt like one never-ending cramp and her head floated fuzzily on her shoulders. She really didn't function on low blood-sugar and she had yet to eat anything today -- there hadn't been time.

When she arrived at the building dubbed "Seventh Heaven", she had barely a minute to spare. There was a man she didn't recognize waiting for her. He nodded for her to enter, and she was immediately ushered onto a lift that brought them deep within the core beneath Midgar – one of many bases of operation.

Barret was waiting for them at the bottom level, dismissing her guard with a jerk of his hand before signaling for her to follow him. There was no bustling room of activity in this building, just a long bare hallway that echoed their footstep loudly. He didn't speak, so she responded in kind.

At the far end of the hall was a round doorway and a small panel to its right. Barret quickly dialed in the code and the door opened.

The first thing Tifa noticed was the deep thrumming of a large computer hub and a wide monitor suspended from the ceiling. Then she was brought to attention by an excited exclamation just in time to see a disheveled, red-eyed Jesse leaping up from her seat to greet them. The girl's attention narrowed in on Tifa Immediately, an intense expression around her eyes.

"How did you _get _this?" Her face glowed with breathless exultation. "I never...this is incredible." She gestured vaguely with her hands, encompassing the entire room. "This will take weeks to sort through."

Barret made an inarticulate grunting noise in the back of his throat. "We don't have weeks."

Jesse forged ahead unperturbed, clasping Tifa's hands with renewed zeal, "Come here." She insisted and lead her to the monitor, "This -" She began, taking a breath as she tapped rapidly across the keys, bringing up multiple pages, "can link us to the entire Shin-Ra Database."

Tifa frowned in puzzlement, "But I thought this was from Deepground? Not Shin-Ra headquarters."

"It _is!_" The girl emphasized excitedly, "but Deepground is linked to Shin-Ra's database via a ghost network that my handy little jump drive hacked when you downloaded the files from Deepground's host computer. We've got _everything_ – more than I know what to do with really."

"Make sure ya focus on what's important, Jess." Barret cautioned quietly, his arms crossed. "We don't have time to be pokin' through all their dirty history."

She sighed, "I know, but you should really listen to this; it details the original Avalanche organization and its members, all the known survivors…well, what little they knew after their disappearances anyway."

Barret seemed to perk up a slight amount at that. "What's it say?"

Jesse dialed up another window. "See here? Everyone assumed Elfe died, right? Well, not so much." She indicated the screen where a file and photograph of a girl was now displayed, stamped with MIA in bold red lettering, "And at the same time roughly that Elfe disappeared, the leader of the Turks at that time, Veld, was announced dead by Shin-Ra, but look here – it was never officially verified. After some digging around I was able to find some information that strongly suggests Veld was Elfe's father, though that wasn't her given name."

"What's that do for us?" The burly man inquired with a grunt. "They ain't here now. And I'd bet they want it to stay that way."

"But it's fascinating, isn't it?" Jesse beamed. "Think of how much more they've kept in the dark all these years – there's so much we don't know about what went on behind the scenes during the first revolt."

"What about Sephiroth?" Tifa spoke up hesitantly. "Did you look into any of the files on him and Angeal?"

Jesse bashfully avoided her superior's piercing stare. "Some." She cleared her throat uneasily, "Those are the hardest ones to sift, because there's so much information."

"Ain't important." Barret dismissed it curtly.

Tifa took a deep breath, stealing herself for what she had to do next. "I think it is." She contested. "If we could get control of their triggers, it might be to our advantage."

Barret gave a snort of contempt. "They been Shin-Ra flunkies since day one – let 'em rot. We don't have time to be wastin' on them."

Jesse gave looked between Barret and Tifa uncertainly, "Well you know..." she hedged, "she kind of has a point. If we could hijack control of their two strongest SOLDIERs, we'd be eliminating at least two of the greatest threats to our operation."

His brow creased broodingly as he considered that. "Maybe. Wouldn't be easy cracking the code."

"No, it won't." The other agreed, "Given the time limitations we'll be lucky to get one, but I think it's worth a shot."

"Make it Sephiroth then. He's more dangerous." Barret stroked his beard. "I know a few people who'd relish pushing the button on 'im themselves."

Tifa felt the air get sucked right out of her. She inhaled sharply, gathering her courage, "I think…Angeal would be better."

A shadow fell over her face as the large man who stood beside her stepped into the light, blocking it. His eyes pinned her on the spot, "Why? He ain't nothing."

Her lips tensed together flatly, not least of which because she begged to differ on that point, but she wasn't about to voice that. She had to invent a reason and quick. "I…he deserves a chance to live, that's why."

Or she could blurt out the truth too. She clamped down on the tickling of righteous anger that was creeping into her throat before it got her into serious trouble.

Jesse put a hand on Barret's arm before he could retort, "Hey, we've got time to decide. No need to rush it."

"Fine. I'll consider it, but on one condition," He cautioned and his gaze landed squarely on Tifa with ominous portent. "You know what's comin'."

Tifa looked away with a despondent nod.

"Ain't nothin' any of us wanna do either." He murmured – the closest he'd ever come to empathy with her. "But somethin's gotta change and we at the end of the rope here."

"I know." Tifa felt a chill travel down her spine like a shot of cold water. "I'm not backing out now."

Barret turned away, one hand poised on the back of his neck, hesitating, "It'll have ta be coordinated – we've got everythin' in place to cut their power. They'll be in enough disarray at that point – shouldn't be hard gettin' what we need and then some."

Tifa looked up in mild surprise. "So you'll do it?"

"We can try." It was Jesse who spoke then. "We're going to hi-jack their system's safe-guards with the power off anyway, but we won't have a lot of time. Enough to hack one trigger, but two is pushing it. Our manpower is stretched pretty thin at this point now that we've got Deepground to worry about."

"You're going after Deepground too?" That was unexpected.

Barret grumbled something under his breath to the effect of, "Not my idea."

Jesse frowned pensively, "That guy, Vincent - the one you gave the jump drive to? He pushes a hard bargain. He didn't hand it over for free."

"Oh." A tickling of apprehension grew behind Tifa's ears, but Barret made nary a sound. He was glaring at the far wall.

"Don't worry," Jesse dismissed it easily. "He had a good enough point that no one took much offense."

"How do you mean?" She tried to control her hands from worrying a hangnail on her thumb.

"We've known about Deepground for a while." The other woman fired a sidelong glance at her captain. "We've been siphoning equipment and serums from them for some time actually"

Tifa's brow furrowed. "That sounds dangerous. I wouldn't trust anything that came out of that place."

"No one does, but we don't have the time or manpower ta get picky." Barret answered gruffly. "I ain't touched any of it, but some people...they need a little somethin' more ta give 'em the balls to follow through when the time comes. The science was what we wanted anyway – we stole research more than anythin' else."

"But the point is," Jesse interrupted. "Until now, we had no idea of what kind of force they had. After what Vincent told us though and the information on the jumpdrive, we can't just ignore it. They're building up for something and it has the potential to catch everyone off guard if it's not dealt with, which is where Vincent comes in."

"How?"

"He wants to infiltrate the facility during the chaos above and try to cut their power too, which would be devastating since all of their storage containers require power to maintain the lifelines of their…specimens."

Tifa shuddered, "You mean…kill them all? Just like that?"

The other woman nodded, her eyes hard. She shook her head after a moment, "There's nothing else for it you know - that's an army down there and if Vincent thinks he can nip it in the bud, more power to him. I just hope he's not biting off more than he can chew."

"He's going alone?" Tifa frowned thoughtfully. She knew of a couple people who might be, if not willing, than susceptible to being blackmailed into helping out.

Not that she engaged in that sort of behavior frequently, but nothing else for it, right?

"At the moment, yeah." Jesse answered. "But he's going to have an entire team working on base via radio to guide him through it. There's just not enough of us to throw more bodies into the fray when we've got a war on the surface going on."

Tifa wrinkled her nose and gazed off into the nether world of the gears spinning in her mind, "What if I knew of some people who were willing to help him? Is there a way for me to contact him?"

"There is now." She snorted and grinned sheepishly. "Although it wasn't easy _convincing_ him, but we have to have some way of communicating throughout this mess. I can leave him a message if you want?"

"Yeah, okay." Tifa replied pensively and turned away.

"Right then."

"Hey Jess," Barret was starting to fidget and glance periodically at the door.

Her dirty blond pony tail bobbed as she twisted her head at him, "Yeah?"

"What about that one, uh, firewall…whatchamacallit you were tryin' to break? You know, the one with enough security barriers on it to keep out the president himself?" He asked.

"Oh!" Jesse snapped her fingers, whirling around again. "I almost forgot – you won't believe this."

Barret and Tifa exchanged a glance that went unnoticed by the exuberant technician. She was whirling through windows on the computer monitor again at a pace that defied logic. They watched restlessly, wondering at what other mysteries Jesse might reveal.

"I take it you got in?" The dark man emphasized with a scowl. His eyes flitted towards the door again.

The girl tossed a wayward grin over her shoulder at them. "Just wait till you see this - it's beyond weird."

"Get on with it, Jess." Her boss ground out tiredly. "Ya haven't slept int 24 hours and I've got to get back for the briefin',"

"Wait, wait!" Jesse waved her hand sporadically, the other working the keys feverishly in front of her. "Here it is."

Barret and Tifa shuffled forward to take a closer look. It was Hojo's file that had been brought up, including a very unflattering picture of his over large forehead framed by lanky black hair and dark, pinpoint eyes that gleamed behind his spectacles. It sent a shiver up Tifa's spine and she involuntarily stepped back.

"Read what it says," Jesse indicated a chart at the bottom detailing the results of a test on…sperm cells?

Tifa's brow rose slowly at first, her face a little green before recognition dawned. "That's...but that means..." She couldn't formulate the words coherently. Relief and disbelief were warring for the upper hand as she read through the information again, sure that her eyes had deceived her.

Jesse nodded enthusiastically, her grin growing. "Makes sense though, doesn't it? In a twisted sort of way. His pride and joy, and it's not even _his_!"

Tifa stared, open-mouthed and dull-eyed at the screen. "But if Hojo isn't his father...who is?"

She held up a finger to them as she turned back to the console. "That's where it _really _gets interesting." Her voice was literally vibrating with anticipation and she threw a pointed look over her shoulder aimed directly at Tifa, "Did you know that of all the people Sephiroth faced, Elfe was the only one he could never beat?"

"I didn't even know there was anyone that he couldn't beat." She confessed and she couldn't help the frown that pulled at the corners of her mouth. The only opponent he could never beat was some _girl_?

Something tightened painfully in her chest, which she determinedly ignored.

Jesse grinned as she stepped to the side of the console and gestured towards the screen. "Well, take a look at this."

On the screen were displayed two portraits; one belonging to a Lucrecia Crescent, and the other a man she didn't recognize. A face of strong bones, weathered skin, and sharp eyes gazed off to right in his. He had a dusting of hair along his chin and bore a scar across his left cheek. His hair was dark brown, cropped short in the back as one long lock of bangs fell across the right side of his forehead haphazardly.

The name under the picture specified "Veld", though there was another name listed in parenthesis, Verdot. It sounded familiar. Her eyes widened summarily as she read through the addendum at the end of the file; Lucrecia had been artificially inseminated, and Veld was the donor. Or rather the specimen, as it was written, no doubt in Hojo's hand.

Had either of them even known? She doubted it. Hojo would die before he allowed anyone but himself to know that he was infertile and that his prize creation was in fact the son of an ex Turk.

"If you've forgotten, that would be Elfe's father." Jesse supplied evenly. "Which would make her Sephiroth's half-sister. It's no wonder they were so well matched, huh?"

Tifa blinked. If ever a person looked the epitome of flabbergasted, it must have been her. She could almost take a picture of herself she was so…without words.

"Jesse..." Barret drawled as he massaged the bridge of his nose between his eyes. His patience had reached its end it seemed.

It might not have meant anything to him, but for Tifa she was still struggling mightily to drag herself out from under a pile of bricks. Some part of her was secretly relieved, even overjoyed, at this discovery. On the other hand, she felt the familiar budding agony of indecision at being unwittingly handed the responsibility of knowing something so integral to another person's life that it might be the difference between living and dying.

Or going insane. Again.

"I know, I know." Jesse grumbled with a tired smile at her boss. "That's it. I'll get back to work now, kay?"

Now it was Barret's turn to sigh. "Try getting' some sleep, eh? I don't need ya passin' out on me."

"I promise." Jesse assured him before turning to Tifa. "Come on, I've got some more gadgets for you."

"I'll leave the rest to you, Jess." Barret said as he made for the door. He caught Tifa's eye briefly, "She'll show you out when ya finished."

"Thanks." Tifa waved goodbye and turned back to Jesse, who was bent over a box of what appeared to be mechanical beetles. They had a hard, shiny shell and little appendages made for attaching to smooth surfaces.

Jesse cast her a commiserating smile that came out more akin to a grimace, "How are things at the HQ?"

"They're...okay I guess." There was a splintered crack in the wall that struck her with great interest suddenly. How had that gotten there she wondered? And could she disappear into it if she concentrated hard enough:?

"I don't know how you do it." Jesse continued to speak though her attention was directed to the object in her hand. "It must be hard, having to cooperate on a daily basis with the one responsible for...what happened."

Tifa ducked her head to the side, hiding the pained expression that flitted across her face. "Sometimes..." Perhaps not for the reasons assumed however.

Jesse stepped back from the table, her hands falling to her sides as she regarded Tifa with an all too perceptive shine in her sharp eyes. It took some mulling over before she finally decided to speak, squaring herself to the other woman with one had propped on her hip, "Why do you want Angeal's trigger and not Sephiroth's?" She asked. "I mean, I thought you'd jump at a chance to push the button on him yourself."

"What?" Tifa blinked in vague horror as her throat began to constrict, "No! No, I don't…want to kill them."

A shadow deepened in the other woman's gaze as her brow came together, "Then what do you want the trigger for?"

"I want to deactivate it." She shifted her feet and averted her gaze away.

Jesse exhaled loudly, raking a hand over her hair as she turned away. "Well...that's a bit more complicated then."

Tifa swallowed anxiously, "It is?"

Jesse chewed absently on a fingernail as she examined her workspace with discontent. "Your best bet is to surgically remove the chip because there's no guarantee Shin-Ra won't be able to reacquire the trigger back from us once they're back online – we can't keep them out forever."

"Oh...then," Her forehead crinkled, "is there nothing we can do?"

Barret's tech genius blew at a wayward bang that dangled in front of her eyes, "There is, but it's risky and Barret would probably have a fit,.." She trailed off for a moment before posing the question that no doubt cautioned her cooperation, "But why? They could cause us a world of trouble you know. It'd be easier if we just…"

Tifa's mouth opened wordlessly, her expression twisting in consternation as no words were forthcoming. Then came a sigh and she shifted her feet, arms wrapped around her waist as she surveyed the floor. "Please...don't…don't kill them." It came out so quiet, almost as a whisper and she looked up into Jesse's face beseechingly. "They would help us, I'm certain, if they could get free of Shin-Ra."

The silence that followed was punctuated by a soft rustling of clothing as Jesse shifted her weight. It was another moment before she spoke, "Sephiroth has fought us before." She stated. "Why would he stop?"

"He doesn't have a choice." Tifa murmured. "They could kill him if he refused to cooperate. As it is he is barely allowed out of their sight and Angeal even less so."

Something between a sigh and a groan drew out of the tech's mouth. "Well…alright then." She said with a wary glance, "Barret might go apoplectic, but I think we can get around that."

"How does that work?" Tifa fought back a nervous laugh. Barret going apoplectic made a very frightening image in her mind, one that she didn't relish in visiting.

Jesse smirked dryly, "He's not as cold-hearted a bastard as he comes on to be and I'm almost positive that one of our scientists will be willing to help. She can talk him into it if nothing else."

"But we don't even know how to remove the chip." Tifa said. "We might end up killing him."

"Shalui was there for the original procedure, " Jesse offered. "She's the best chance you've got to save him." Her head cocked slightly to one side, "You defended Sephiroth pretty hard though…are you sure Angeal is the one you want to go for?"

Tifa nodded. "Yes. I...someone asked me to...as a favor, to save him."

Jesse crossed her arms broodingly as she regarded the other. There was a lot that could be read into that statement and she didn't miss much. "Seems like you're playing with fire to me." She commented. "You sure you're okay?"

"No." The other shook her head, before calmly meeting Jesse's gaze, "But that's not the point, is it?"

"I suppose not." She wiped her hands idly on her pants and turned back to her box of gadgets. "What a mess..."

Tifa concurred.

* * *

Five days. That was a long wait for the world to end. Jesse had mentioned that Cloud was doing well, though he kept mostly to himself. She'd taken a few cracks at getting him out of his shell and had failed miserably in both attempts.

Tifa didn't get a chance to see him while she was there. He was in the middle of a briefing for their next assault and she was not to be privy of any of it. That was understandable, but it made her nervous nonetheless; Avalanche was not pulling their punches and a part of her feared what they would do next.

When she left the 7th Heaven bar it was mid-afternoon. She's spent a solid three hours discussing plans with Jesse, as well as her own responsibilities over the course of the next few days, and being forced to eat by her over-exuberant companion. A lot of time and effort went into drawing up a strategy of this magnitude – Tifa marveled at what these people had accomplished and wondered if she could ever do half as much as they did in twice the time.

Probably not.

She had to decide what to do now that she had the rest of the day to herself. It was lonely thinking about it. With everyone she knew either caught in the middle or on opposing sides of an impending war, there was no grasping of normalcy in her life and no friends to share quiet time with. So it was for her to do as she pleased by herself.

In lieu of recent events, a cafe seemed particularly apt.

Tifa took the train back into the main of Midgar city, somewhere in Sector 3, and sifted through the neon signs for one that nabbed her attention; Wary Traveler's Cafe. She could see wooden stools set up along the windowsill counters. Upon entering, there were tables and booths interspersed within, and a bare corner for live music of which there was none at present. A plush navy blue couch and two equally plush armchairs sat before an empty fireplace.

This was the place then. She pushed inside, the bell at the top of the door announcing her arrival. It wasn't too crowded for the time of day, but there were still some who hadn't gotten off work she suspected. With so many options to choose from, Tifa hesitated for a quite a while before settling on a cup of spiced cream tea.

With order in hand and heating her fingertips almost to the point of pain, she wove through the tables to the far side of the cafe where she'd seen the fireplace. It was only when she sat down in the armchair nearest the window that she noticed the man seated on one of the three stools by himself. She did a double take, sipping her tea as she regarded him curiously from the corner of her eyes.

Sandy blond hair pushed roughly back by a pair of flight goggles, blue oil stained coat with the sleeves rolled up, and an unlit cigarette between his teeth – there was no smoking in the cafe. This was the man she'd seen the day before in the Shin-Ra HQ lobby, arguing with the receptionist. For someone who was supposedly immersed in the higher science of space exploration, he certainly wasn't behaving the part.

He looked more like the irascible mechanic type than a space pilot, but who was she to judge?

His head turned just then and she was too slow to cover her tracks before he noticed her eyes on him. She busied herself with sipping her tea and hiding her embarrassment, until he waltzed passed her to sink into the armchair opposite her. He also had a cup of tea, which he sipped once before setting it down and weaving his fingers over his chest.

"Nice chairs," Was his poignant conversation starter.

Tifa felt a nervous burble in her throat as she scrambled for something to say, "Yeah, they are nice."

"I don't usually strike up conversations with young whipper snappers like you, but I'm bored." He offered with a shrug. "Ain't been to Midgar much and don't know anybody."

"Oh, well, neither do I." She replied. "I've only been here a few weeks and I still don't know anybody." Aside from the terrorist leader of Avalanche, the Great Ninja of Wutai, the General himself, and the General's lesser known friend. Oh yeah, and a "dead" guy.

Nope, she didn't know anybody. Least not anyone it would be safe mentioning.

The man gave a grunt of acknowledgment as he scowled into his tea cup. Evidently it was now empty. "Good tea here." He noted as an afterthought before averting his attention back to her. "So whaddya do here, eh?"

"I'm...working." Tifa forced out between her teeth and nearly scalded herself on the liquid as it passed too quickly down her throat. She bit back a wince.

"Well I figured that." He retorted cheekily. "What do you _do_?"

"Actually," She set the cup down, wondering how to put it without giving anything away. "I came here to find a friend. And avenge someone…"

He straightened subtly in his seat. His eyes were very blue and startlingly sharp, in more ways than one. "That whole vengeance deal can be tricky business, kid. Ain't always gonna turn out the way you planned."

_Oh the irony. _Tifa couldn't restrain a dry chuckle from bubbling up her throat. He had no idea... "I mostly just came to find my friend."

"Oh yeah? How's that workin' out?" The man asked.

She stared off into the fireplace whimsically, "I found him."

The pilot sat forward slowly, his elbows braced on his knees as he regarded her shrewdly, "That don't sound like a ringing endorsement."

Tifa just shook her head. "Like you said, things don't always turn out the way you planned."

He favored her with a dry smile, "Ain't that the truth."

"So what are you doing here?" she asked.

"Eh," The man shifted in his seat, resting his right ankle on his knee while his left hand tapped a rhythm on the arm of the chair. "Couple reasons really. I had an appointment - now _delayed,_" he emphasized sourly, "The trip here ended up bein' a bit more exciting than usual though."

"Oh? How is that?"

He shook his head with a grim laugh, "Shit…some poor kid up at Bone Village just about prostrated himself at my feet to convince me to fly him here - looked like he'd been through hell and back, ya know? Didn't feel right leavin' him there so I agreed. Took me twice as long to get here if I hadn't though."

Tifa tried valiantly to control the sudden rapid beat of her heart at the eerily familiar tale. She really was no good at subterfuge at all, but he didn't seem to notice. "So…" She licked her lips, "is that why your meeting got delayed? Because you didn't get here in time?"

"What? Oh no," He shook his head, "No, with all the hullabaloo surrounding the exploded reactor they didn't have _time _to see me. I'd bet my left testicle that any number of their executive members was free though, the bastards."

"Shin-Ra?" She queried carefully.

He snickered, "Funny how everyone seems to know that."

"You don't seem to like them much." Tifa watched him carefully, covering her mouth with her cup of tea.

His face contorted viciously for one second before settling for something slightly less hard. "Can't say I've got much love for 'em, no."

Tifa bit her lip. "You wouldn't happen to fly helicopters, would you?"

There was a long breath of silence before he moved. His head twitched, eye-balling her slowly. "Yeah, I can fly 'em. Why?"

She took a deep breath, her shoulders rising and falling as she exhaled. "Well…I'm in need of some help…you know that guy you flew here?"

His eyes narrowed. "Yeah…I take it you know him?"

Tifa nodded. "He's a friend of mine. He was in trouble see and…well…" Her head fell into her hands with a groan. "This is a very long and convoluted story."

"Better start at the beginning' then." He observed darkly. "Am I gonna need another cup of tea?"

"Probably." She relented. "But we really shouldn't talk here."

"I'll order it to go."

* * *

His name was Cid Highwind. He once had been involved in Shin-Ra's space exploration program, building rockets. Ten seconds before his launch into space something had gone wrong and the mission had failed before it ever left the ground, leaving nothing but a rusty rocket in his backyard to show for his efforts.

Shin-Ra had canned the space program after that and no amount of swearing, as Cid put it, would change their mind.

But he was cautiously willing to help after hearing her story, and that's more than Tifa could have hoped for. She'd made a habit of trusting random people lately that probably wasn't healthy, but then, so far nothing had blown up in her face. There was no doubting the special place in Cid's heart for Shin-Ra, and it was dedicated to pure loathing, so she felt moderately placated.

And he'd helped Chaka without question.

She would trust him, as she had trusted Vincent, as she now trusted in Chaka and Yuffie, Barret, Angeal…and Sephiroth. And to think she'd come here looking for Cloud - he was barely a part of her existence anymore.

Her hands still shook as she put on her uniform. It was getting on to evening now and she was heading back to Headquarters. She had less than a week to practice and just the thought of what she had to do made her want to run from this place as hard and as fast as her feet could take her.

It was at that moment her phone started to ring and Tifa levitated a foot off the floor. She couldn't remember a single time anyone had used her phone to actually _call _her and she stared down at the thing with a vague sort of panic as it vibrated in her palm.

Flipping it open, she pressed the talk button and lifted it cautiously to her ear.

"_Meet me at the Sector 5 reactor, now." _

"Wha-"

Click, and he was gone.

Tifa blinked down a the object in her hand in confusion and a growing sense of dread. There was no time to think she realized and pocketed the phone before setting off at a dead sprint.

It took her fifteen minutes to get there and when she finally saw a glimpse of silver amidst an ocean of blue, she damn near collapsed in the sheer relief of being able to stop. Her lungs were about to rend themselves apart, they heaved so painfully hard. She bent over, hands on her knees and gasping for air, her legs almost numb from exertion.

At which point someone took her by the arm and proceeded to drag her along behind him. Her head shot up, seeing a mane of silver hair flowing across his back, and she bit back a cruse. She was half staggering behind him, pulling at his grip in frustration, but he didn't so much as twitch in her direction.

It wasn't until she heard the gunfire that it hit her; AVALANCHE was going for another reactor.

Tifa scanned the crowd for signs of battle, but it was still far off. They were passing through the reactor entrance, Sephiroth's hand still clamped around her bicep. She glanced around warily, wondering if anyone else noticed.

But they weren't paying attention to her. Either they were running from or to the reactor, many of them shouting out commands or seeking out officers. No one took heed of her or the man in leading her, which seemed odd. Shouldn't _he_ be leading the assault?

Someone careened into her shoulder knocking her forward and into Sephiroth's back with a grunt. She looked sharply at the offending party, but he had disappeared into the fray up ahead. Meanwhile, the man beside her had stopped to balance her before setting off again, _wordlessly. _

"What's going on?" Tifa tried to bring herself close enough that Sephiroth could hear her above the spurts of machine gun fire and the rumble of small explosions detonating nearby. Her fingers gripped the sleeve of his coat to keep her feet as the ground trembled beneath them.

He met her eyes briefly, "High Command was tipped off half an hour ago - AVALANCHE is making an assault on the reactor as we speak, and we are here to defend it."

Tifa's eyes widened behind her visor; _Cloud_.

He was here.

Her heart seized in her chest and she dove past the silver haired general, ignoring the sharp intake of air that ghosted across her neck as she passed. A distant part of her mind registered her name being called by that familiar voice, a name he should not have been speaking under the circumstances because it was hers. She was too busy shoving her way past those in front of her to care though.

The hall ahead narrowed sharply, descending onto another level of steel grating that spanned over a gaping chasm below it. Soldiers lined the rails firing across the way where another span of metal grating lined the wall. There were cross-walks interspersed every hundred feet, now steeped in a heated battle for control.

Tifa was only half aware of the chaos around her. She was searching for a head of blond hair that defied the laws of gravity, her feet moving of their own volition. The madness that surrounded her in flurries of motion and explosions of fire barely tapped the surface of the turmoil that raged inside her.

There was a commotion behind her. She kept going, hastening her steps as she dodged between the bodies of men fighting and ducked bullets that fired overhead. Her thoughts raced, fear and adrenaline spurning her onwards amidst the anguished cries of those in pain and anger. The noise was almost unbearable, but she wasn't thinking anyway so it didn't matter.

One meter farther and she would have been dead. The grating exploded, ripping steal and flesh as it threw the men that had been stationed there against the wall and out over the abyss below. Blood burned copper in her nose as she coughed, staggering back and against the wall.

Tifa stumbled, holding her hand tight against her nose as tears streaked her face from the intense heat beating across her exposed face. A trickle traveled down her neck, nestling in the curve of her lower back as she continued forward. She stepped carefully over the bodies of the fallen and tied not to see herself among them.

The wall beside her erupted as a spurt of gunfire ripped into the siding. She ducked, throwing her hands over her head as she ran. Her head lifted when the sound ceased, searching for a familiar face somewhere in the maelstrom.

There.

She stopped, momentarily stunned at the scene which greeted her at the cross-way up ahead. A monstrosity of a thing, all moving parts and humming machinery, hovered above the intersection. Its rapid fire machine gun cut through the din of fighting like a lightning clap. There were men fighting it, among them a tall, burly figure with mahogany skin and a machine-gun arm.

Beside him, wielding a heavy broad sword was the most beautiful, and terrifying thing she'd ever imagined. His eyes were alight with life and focus, so unlike the dullness she'd seen when they had first met at the train station. He was fighting along side the other members of AVALANCHE for his life and they weren't having an easy time of it.

The infantry man in front of her took aim at the platform on which Barret and Cloud stood with the others. Tifa saw the soldier's hand move and dove forward, tackling him to the floor as the rifle burst to life. She looked up in time to see that he'd missed high and wide, catching the robotic monstrosity instead.

She struggled to her feet, ignoring the heated words of the man beneath her, and started forward again. Her eyes followed Cloud as she approached the cross-walk, straying only long enough to make her way around whomever barred the path.

Cloud landed a blow to the machine, nearly cutting it in half. There was a moment of hesitation as sparks and electrical currents sprang forth from all its malfunctioning parts. It made a loud screeching noise as it started to descend to the ground.

Tifa was poised to turn the corner onto the crosswalk when the explosion wracked the grating, throwing her backwards. She felt the searing power of the flames against her skin as she hit the ground rolling. Shrapnel flew over her head, embedding in the wall behind her. She covered her head, belatedly, and stole a peek anxiously up ahead.

The breath died in her throat as a vision came through the black smoke furling up from the wreckage of the cross way. She screamed, though she wasn't fully aware of what she said - it sounded like Cloud. Her voice cracked and she jerked to her feet, faltering as pain shot up her leg from her right ankle.

He was hanging from the edge on the far side. She couldn't _reach _him! Someone shoved past her, knocking her into the railing. The infantryman had a rifle in his hands raised to fire.

"No!' Tifa leaped forward, only to be brought violently back as a strong arm slipped around her waist and cinched tight. Her back fell back hard against someone's chest even as she struggled to get free.

"Stand down Solider." A familiar voice said from above her.

She didn't know if it was she he spoke to or the man with the rifle, but evidently the latter hesitated and that was when Cloud's grip failed him.

Tifa gasped, surging forward sharply against the hand that held her, but he held her firm. Cloud was gone, disappeared into the mist that had gathered in the chasm below, and Sephiroth's strength was too great for her to break free. She couldn't breath, her eyes wide and disbelieving.

He was gone.

A sob wrenched itself from her throat. If not for Sephiroth's arm around her, she would have collapsed to the grating without a fight. Her skin burned as the salt of her tears mingled with the scrapes on her face she didn't realize she had. There was a blur of motion all around her, but she didn't see it; couldn't comprehend it even had she tried.

"No…" Her eyes clenched shut as she turned her head away and sagged against the man who stood silently above her, holding her still. Tifa's fingers gripping the front of his coat with such pain that she thought her joints might explode.

She barely registered the faint brush of finger tips that slid up along the back of her neck and gently stroked her hair. Her head fell against his chest, the helm she wore making it awkward to relax as she settled there in silence, waiting for the nightmare to end and reality to begin.

"Let's go." Sephiroth murmured in her ear.

She nodded miserably and stepped away from him. More blue uniforms had gathered, surveying the wreckage as the last of the Avalanche members retreated. They were not giving pursuit it seemed.

Sephiroth turned away then and she followed, refusing to look back.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **So I've been meaning to say this for, oh, the last 5 chapters, but because I was so caught up in the relief of getting each chapter out, I always forgot. But this time I'm putting this little note at the end in advance so that I CAN'T forget. So...I drew some awesomely bad fanart for this story, which is posted on my profile at Deviant Art. My Deviant tag is Faerlyte, just like here, so just look me up and you'll find all my awesomely bad artwork. I don't do colors so it's just graphit (incidentally, there's a pumpkin carving too), but have a look if you're curious. Someday, I hope to write something inspiring enough that more experienced artists will take up the mantle and I won't HAVE to draw my own fanart. *hint hint*

Also, if anyone has ever heard the song "Let Go" by Paul van Dyk - that is Sephiroth's theme song in my story, in a totally cheesy, techno sort of way. Every time I hear it, it's like Sephiroth is the one singing. It's actually a good song - I like it anyway, but I'm into that sort of thing, and the guy doing the vocals has a nice voice that _could_ be Sephiroth if, you know, you tilt your head a little to the left and perk your ears just so... Right then, I'm sure you can find it on youtube if that perks your interest so with that I bid you farewell.

Happy reading everyone!

Faerlyte


	16. Chapter 16

**The Warrior**

Chapter 16

I bet you thought I'd never be back! HA! I finished a chapter - go figure. It's bad. Please have mercy on me.

* * *

_Previously..._

_She barely registered the faint brush of finger tips that slid up along the back of her neck and gently stroked her hair. Her head fell against his chest, the helm she wore making it awkward to relax as she settled there in silence, waiting for the nightmare to end and reality to begin._

_"Let's go." Sephiroth murmured in her ear._

_She nodded miserably and stepped away from him. More blue uniforms had gathered, surveying the wreckage as the last of the Avalanche members retreated. They were not giving pursuit it seemed._

_Sephiroth turned away then and she followed, refusing to look back._

_

* * *

_

If there was ever a time that Tifa should need to disappear, now would be it.

There was no mistaking the accusation behind the eyes that followed their strategic retreat, or the vice like grip that Sephiroth kept on her wrist . It crept under her skin and festered in her blood like a poison. She was forced to move in accordance with his swift pace or trip onto her face.

Tifa's legs were not responding with great alacrity - her mind even less so. If it weren't for his dragging her along behind she would still be sitting on the grating back there. Time had gotten lost somewhere in the shuffle and she drifted after him mindlessly.

Sephiroth did not speak. His jaw was tight, a muscle ticking at the corner of his eye.

It occurred to her that she'd put them both in abominable danger. Not only that, but her mission for Avalanche was now in jeopardy too. The realization filled her with bitter self-loathing, if only for a moment.

_I really messed things up, didn't I? _A sardonic smile thinned her lips. _Well, you knew it could end this way back when you started it. _

The silence was almost unbearable, like a heavy weight in her chest that threatened to burst with every step, but the bite of Sephiroth's fingers kept her grounded. It was starting to hurt, which reminded her belatedly of why she was here in the first place. Then she got angry.

What right did they have to expect anything more from her? She didn't owe them anything, certainly not this man.

Tifa's hand curled into a fist and she planted her feet. With a yank of her wrist she broke the General's grasp and ripped off the helm that had been rubbing uncomfortably against her scalp. Her brow cast a furious shadow over her eyes as she stepped back from him and massaged the tender skin. She watched him warily, _daring _him to act.

A part of her wanted him to even, for the satisfaction of knowing that there was nothing he could do that the world hadn't already tried. Or him, for that matter.

For a brief instant his eyes were like molten lava burning into her skull. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, his face drawn in a fierce expression to match her own. Just like that the tension evaporated, unfurling in the sag of his broad shoulders and the fall of his head as he looked away.

"I didn't mean to hurt you." He said after a moment, gazing out across the street at nothing in particular. "But you know there will be repercussions - my word may not be enough to save you."

Tifa tried not to be incredulous as she stared at the side of his face, "I never asked you to save me. And it doesn't matter now anyway." She kicked at a chunk of concrete, launching it clattering down the street.

Zangan was right - she should never have come here.

The silence beckoned for her to leave before her resolve broke, but not before his words pulled her up short. "What would you have me do then?"

Tifa blinked her eyes, fending off the emotional confusion that swelled behind them. "Just go away." She murmured hoarsely. "I don't need your help."

Something inside him had snapped. His hands clenched and his boots moved of their own accord, determination hardening his features with each step. He removed his glove and took her hand in his, "Come on." He said, and he looked her in the eye fully. "If he is alive, we will find him."

Tifa looked at their joined hands with a swallow, the warmth of his skin tingling against hers in a way that made her heart jump. She lifted her head, a question burning in her eyes.

Sephiroth resisted the urge to reach out and banish the strand of hair that obscured her right eye. Instead he gave her hand a careful squeeze, coaxing her to follow him. The train tunnels were not far ahead - he could get them there in no time at all.

Hesitantly, a tightness in her chest that she couldn't explain, Tifa followed him into the dark.

* * *

The night air was heavy and warm for the season, clouds drooping and clinging to the rooftops. Overcast was so dreary - Sephiroth just preferred it rain rather than squat over the streets with empty threats. Tifa had not made a sound since he had led her from the empty street on this wild goose chase - a worrisome development in his estimation.

He didn't know what errant thought had convinced him that doing what he was about to do was a good idea, but the conviction had built up momentum and now there was no turning back. It was worth it just to see a spark of hope in the woman that held to his hand like her last tether to life. The chances that the boy had survived the fall might be small, but he owed it to her to find him.

Or so he told himself.

In truth, he just wanted to help. The shadows that followed in her footsteps gave him little peace either. He feared answers almost as desperately as he wanted them, and the gaping chasm between them would not be bridged without that knowledge.

Sephiroth was no coward.

That didn't stop the deepening frown from moving over his face. He was half convinced that he would cut out his heart for her if she asked. Not even Angeal or Genesis could inspire that kind of loyalty in him - he had priorities after all.

Up till _now _at any rate.

They ducked through the train tunnels and side passages as he led their way downwards to the slums, Tifa following obediently behind in oppressive silence. If his calculations were correct, the boy would be in Sector 5. There was a church there, as Zack had waxed poetic about it on more than one occasion.

And, if his gut instinct were any indication, a flower girl.

As usual, his gut was correct.

It had been a long shot at best. He was not expecting to find the boy there, nor the flower girl for that matter, so it was to his great surprise (and subsequent contrition) that he found them both. The former was a little worse for ware, but he was alive.

She was the same woman, he was almost certain now, though he'd never personally met her. The coincidence, however, was far too uncanny for it not to be. Who else but her could cultivate flowers in such a desolate place?

How odd that Cloud seemed to be taking to her in much the same way Zack had.

A gasp behind him announced that Tifa was, in fact, still very much aware of her surroundings. Sephiroth turned to her, a strange pang in his chest as he saw one grief replaced by another in the glistening reflection of her eyes. He sighed inwardly, because this hadn't been what he had in mind in bringing her here, and why was it that everything he did ended disastrously?

But she smiled, letting go of his hand as she watched them, and released a sigh of relief. When she turned back to him her eyes burned bright with conviction and she gave to him her most heart felt thanks. Then she turned and walked away.

Sephiroth stared after her in bemusement. Indecision stayed his legs from moving after her as he glanced between her retreating back and the scene playing out in the flower patch.

Love sick idiot. He did not stop to explore whether it was the boy to whom the thought was meant, or himself.

Cursing himself and the Gods for all their conniving entreaties, he let her go.

Sephiroth kept to the rafters of the building for a higher vantage point, squatting well within the shadows and out of sight. From there he watched, waiting. He could make out their voices barely, a word here and there, but nothing more. The flower girl's laughter was unmistakable, as were the awkward gestures from the young man as he fidgeted around her.

The woman was glowing . If he looked too long he was convinced she would burn away his retinas.

When the Turks arrived, he took his leave. It wouldn't do for them to find him here, nor the strategically placed barrels he'd left behind.

Sephiroth found Tifa at the child's play ground a short while later, just inside the gates between sector 6 and 7. She sat upon a swing, hands wound about the chain links as she spun, 'round and 'round. When he stopped in front of her, she dug the heels of her boots into the ground and came to a stop facing him.

"So what will you do now?" She inquired.

"I'm taking you back to head quarters." Sephiroth answered.

To this she frowned dubiously and straightened in her swing, "That's kind of dangerous, isn't it? Shin-Ra might be stupid, but everybody saw what happened back there."

He shrugged, a humorless smirk framing his mouth. "I'm more valuable to them alive than dead. Many a stalwart soldier has broken down in the midst of battle when discovering a dear brother to be a traitor."

Tifa arched a single brow, before understanding sent the second to join it. Her mouth formed a silent 'o' and her head cocked to one side, curious. "You think they'll believe that?"

"The bulk of Shin-Ra's military doings are reported by Angeal and myself." Sephiroth explained. "If we say it is so, it is so."

"But that doesn't mean they believe you." She gazed at the ground, stirring the dirt with her boot. "I don't want you to die."

His shadow fell over her face as he took another step towards her and crouched down to eye level, an amused lilt to his lips. "Well, we could always tell them it was Dev that had the nervous break down on duty. My superiors would be none the wiser."

Tifa met his eyes with a startled laugh, "Oh really?"

Sephiroth flashed a conniving smile. "Quite so."

* * *

"Just walk normal." Wutai's infamous princess ninja grumbled.

"I am!" The tall and lanky Soldier whispered back with an affronted glance. His braids were carefully tucked up underneath his helm so as not to draw attention should someone recognize his trademark hair.

Her head shifted slightly to accommodate a scathing once over of his buoyant stride and rolling shoulders. "You call that _normal_?"

Chaka's helmet afforded a clear view of his scowling mouth as he let out a grating sigh and settled into a rigid, military march. The frown quickly morphed into a pleased smirk at the thoroughly scandalized look on Yuffie's face.

"Oh my god! That's even worse." She hissed with a punch to the kidneys for emphasis.

"Ouch!" He yelped, hop stepping away from her violence happy hands and narrowing his eyes behind the visor. "There's a song stuck in my head, ay?"

"Well try walkin' like a normal _person _then. Without all the…you know…" She made a vague hand gesture to his person.

"Awesome dance moves?" He supplied and spun a quick circle with a goofy little flourish as he fell smoothly back into step beside her, _backwards._

Yuffie wrinkled her nose. He had very white teeth. "Undulating."

Chaka made a face. "_Undulating_?"

"It's freakin' me out."

"Short trip. " He muttered and stuffed his hands in his pockets with a sigh.

Yuffie fired a suspicious glare over his bow that went unnoticed and sniffed petulantly, looking surreptitiously out of the corners of her eyes. There were soldiers wandering all over the place, but nobody looked twice at them. It really wasn't much of a smuggling operation at all - _too easy_, she thought smugly.

A subdued silence settled over the two, which was disrupted by a covert poke attack to the ribs - neither party would admit to instigating it - which was than retaliated with equal vengeance. Prudence eventually demanded that they stop before someone noticed the two idiots shoving each other back and forth down the hall. They silently agreed on a tie, or so the other would maintain later, and continued on their way in relative ease.

Someone may have flicked pocket lint onto someone else's uniform for the last word.

Soldier uniforms never seemed to have a shortage of lint, Chaka noted silently to himself. Not just any lint either - this stuff was industrial grade gooey shit, like gum. It was the source of much heated debate in the barracks.

Just what exactly was in the water in this place, or was someone just dumping crap in pockets for laughs?

His eyes slide surreptitiously at the head that bobbed along beside him at shoulder level. He wouldn't put it past her to have a hand in it, but this had been going on for years. She couldn't have been infiltrating Shin-Ra _that _long, could she?

Chaka scratched his goatee with a pensive frown.

Well, he'd probably never know.

All this pomp and flash was probably unnecessary - he was pretty sure he could get himself out of the building on his own without difficulty. It was just after that where he lost track because he had nowhere to go and if things were as serious as they seemed, they'd track him down to finish the job. He wasn't sure what freaked him out more, the fact that this place was really starting to get fucking creepy, or the fact that it had taken him this long to notice.

It was going to be nice to put it behind him, even if he was just jumping into another proverbial flaming inferno.

But he had one stop to make first.

Chaka veered off without warning. "Be right back." He said as he reached for the door. They were using the maintenance stairs.

"Hey!" With an indignant huff, Yuffie charged after him. He was already through the door and half way down the hall when she emerged, cursing his freakishly long legs. She glanced around quickly before running after him.

She'd just caught up to him when he started to push through the kitchen staff door. Panicked, she barreled into him, wrenching the door free of his hand with a well placed elbow to his solar plexus, and slammed the door shot. Breathing hard and looking every bit the frightening banshee she'd shown herself to be, she spread her arms, blocking the way.

"What are ya _doing_?" She demanded. "You're gonna get us both killed!"

"But-"

"No _buts_!"

"She's my girl! I have to -"

"Your _what?_" Her eyes widened comically and her mouth twisted into horrified realization. "Ya gotta be _kiddin_' me. Yer stopping for a _booty _call?"

"What? No!" Chaka gawked like he'd never seen her before. "For the love of…do ya even know what that _means_?"

"Well yeah!" She insisted with a slight fidget and looked away.

They glanced down the halls apprehensively, before turning back to glare at each other again. The stalemate lasted all of two seconds, when the door suddenly opened behind them and Yuffie elevated off the floor with a squawk of surprise. She did a full 180 before her feet touched the ground.

"Can I help you?" It was a woman.

"Nope!" Yuffie interjected loudly and without further ado commenced dragging Chaka's sorry ass back down the hall towards the stairs. Idiot.

"That wasn't her, ay." He said, once beyond earshot.

"Oh _eww! Gross! _I can't believe-"

"I was just going to say goodbye!" Chaka maintained, exasperation leaking into his voice.

"Pervert."

He threw his head back with a groan, " Serenity now."

* * *

True to his word, Sephiroth brought Tifa back to HQ without difficulty. He sent one message to Angeal to apprise him of the situation. Then he escorted her to the detention center, where Dev was summarily discharged for his actions at the reactor earlier that day, and her name was cleared.

Somehow it didn't feel that way.

She trained for an hour in the simulator afterwards and wasn't in her bunk until 3 a.m., at which point she fell asleep within seconds of hitting her pillow. In the deepest rung of sleep her dreams ran away with her, into places best left alone.

_A bag full of baseball sized materia spheres filled her rucksack. She was running the halls of Shin-Ra headquarters, only it was a maze and the night sky shown from above in something meant to resemble starlight. The thunderous echo of running boots pursued her and she turned another random corner. _

_An indistinct figure wearing a bandana and a white, sleeveless top stepped into her path. _

"_Give 'em to me." He said. _

_Tifa hesitated, "You're not Yuffie." _

"_I'm her contact." He answered and took another step towards her. "We don't have much time." _

_Something about him wasn't right, she was sure. So she grabbed one of the many materia in her bag and lobbed it at him, at which point Chaka appeared beside her with a disgusted look as her throw went wide of the mark. _

"_No, no, no," He shook his head and retrieved one of the spheres from her bag. "You've got to put more shoulder into it."_

_Tifa watched his demonstration seriously and retrieved another materia sphere. It seemed to have shrunk in size, now fitting easily in her palm so that her finger tips touched when she held it. Frowning, she planted her feet wide apart and threw from her shoulder, as directed. The one with the bandana vanished with a pop as the sphere hit him square between the eyes. _

_Another scene shifted into place. It was Cloud and he looked a little disheveled with some blood on his temple. He climbed to his feet in a meadow of daisies and splintered wood. _

"_Are you okay?" She asked, stepping towards him. _

"_Just bumped my head a little." He answered and shouldered his sword. "You're going to be late to the wedding."_

_Her mouth twisted in a frown. "I have to take this materia bag back to Yuffie though." She argued. " I don't have time." _

_Cloud looked at her aghast. "You're going to be late to your own wedding?" _

"_It's not my wedding." Tifa huffed. "He's not the right one."_

"_That's weird." He stated frankly. "Why'd you say yes if he wasn't the right one?" _

_She sighed inwardly and turned away, only to be confronted by her pursuers. They wore blue uniforms with leather boots and shoulder armor, or they wore bandanas and street clothes, and they all circled her. A path was opened and Angeal appeared looking grave as he approached. _

"_You can't back out now." He told her. "It's time." _

_Tifa felt her hand tighten on the bag of materia that was now barely the size of a small purse. When they grabbed her she lost her grip and the bag fell, spilling tiny beads all across to floor, to which she cried out in dismay. She was going to have to pick it all up now! _

_But they were taking away before she could, so Yuffie was going to be irate with her now, and she didn't want to get married. Not to that one anyway._

_They had turned only a few corners before the church floor and the blooming daffodils came into full focus. The floor was grass and greenery, no wood at all, and no seats. A cart of flowers was at the head of the procession, and so was he. _

_He was wearing a kimono and his silver hair was braided. It was weird. A wide, all-consuming grin of madness split his thin lips as he held his sword like the executioner._

_Tifa balked. "He's not the right one!" She protested, but they kept dragging her forward. "He's going to kill me!_"

_But no one was listening to her. _

_Cloud was standing there and the flower girl was beside him. Tifa looked at him in desperation, pleading, but his eyes were all on the girl with pink ribbons in her hair - about 20 actually. A lot of damn ribbons._

_They both turned and smiled encouragingly at her. _

_The hands that gripped her tightened around her arms as she reached the cart of flowers. Then she was pushed to her knees. _

_Upon closer inspection, they weren't flowers at all in the cart, but materia spheres on twisted pieces of metal. She looked up and met abnormally large cat-like pupils that swallowed her up with a maniacal gleam. It didn't really look like him at all, she determined absently. _

"_You're not Sephiroth." She announced with an air of calm that didn't quite suit the circumstances. "That nose is way too big and his chin isn't that pointy." _

_Out of nowhere Vincent dropped onto the scene, a gun held poised at Sephiroth's chest as he posed the menacing question, "What have you done with my hair?" _

_

* * *

_

Tifa woke up feeling more tired than when she'd gone to sleep. A hand reached up to rustle her tangled hair as she sat forward and released a sigh. Her eyes alighted on her phone which sat on the small counter space with a frown.

There was still the matter of that materia bag that was in her locker - her dreams were good for something at least. If all went according to plan Yuffie was gone with Chaka by now, though she supposed that didn't prevent her from coming back. It would be better to catch them together to enforce her idea home though, especially with blackmail at her fingertips.

Yuffie would have to work to get back her prize.

Getting to her feet with a groan, Tifa reached across the diminutive floor space of her room for her phone and typed a quick message to the person in question. Hopefully she would get it soon and then she could mark off one more task done. With so much to do she had to make herself focus on one thing at a time.

First off, breakfast, and then training. It wouldn't do to miss again today and she could use the distraction. Even if that meant having to see Sephiroth so early in the morning following another one of her bizarre dream encounters.

To her infinite surprise, he was _not_ there, but Angeal was and he didn't look happy. When they'd finished with the morning session and soldiers began filing out of the gym he asked her to stay behind.

Tifa swallowed a nervous lump in her throat as she nodded and turned back around, facing him.

"Director Lazard has requested an audience with you." He stated when the door shut on the last person and they were alone. "You should go see him immediately."

She blinked, "Me? But what could he want with-"

"I don't know." Angeal interrupted, agitation stiffening his shoulders as he rubbed his neck. He spared her a regretful glance, "But be on your guard."

Oh she'd definitely be that - for all the good it would do.

"Yes sir." She murmured and started to leave. At the door she pivoted around with one final look over her shoulder - Angeal's head was bowed, lines of strain creasing his face. Tifa took a breath, "It'll be okay you know."

He lifted his head to meet her eyes and offered a brittle smile. She smiled back, weakly though it were, and then she left.

Her hands were moist and clammy inside her gloves as she made the long walk to Lazard's office. She had to remember to play her part there, assuming that they hadn't already discovered the truth and she was walking to her execution. They probably had videos saved in the simulator, unless Angeal had gone and deleted the evidence.

She grimaced. If she didn't stop thinking of all the possible ways this could end badly she'd be a frightful mess before she even go there, which was _not_ going to help matters any.

Sighing shakily Tifa stepped into the elevator and sank back against the glass as the doors slid close. Her stomach lurched as the elevator started its ascent. When it stopped again - much to soon - she straightened rigidly.

An immaculate blue suit met her blank stare. She managed to move her eyes upwards to match the familiar attire to a face and was unsure whether to be relieved or horrified at the trademark sunglasses that settled on her for a few choice seconds, before he stepped inside, punching a floor number, and took a stand a couple feet off her left.

Tifa had to enforce all her self-control not to glance over. It was hard enough just keeping her hands relaxed at her sides. At least they were on equal footing in that they both had something to hide behind. She could just barely see him from the corners of her eyes through the visor without turning her head.

And she was almost %100 sure that he was watching her too behind his sunglasses.

His name escaped her at the moment, but he looked like he was 7 feet tall standing next to her. Not even Sephiroth was that tall, and he was around 6 feet. She could feel her pulse quickening under her skin and inhaled slowly in a vain attempt to stay calm. The last thing she needed was a confrontation in an elevator with one of the Turks - the hand to hand fighting one no less.

It was at times like these that she kind of missed the training sessions with Chaka. She was still practicing the maneuvers he'd taught her, but it wasn't quite the same.

Tifa was so relieved when the elevator stopped and the Turk stepped out that she sagged back against the wall with a strangled sound. The sensation was short lived as the elevator jerked back into motion. It took far too short a time to get to the desired floor and when the doors opened she had to pry herself off the wall to step out into the hall.

No one was about as she made her way to the door on the far end of the hall and her footfalls filled the silence with ominous portent. Her shoulders rose and fell with a sigh as the office loomed in front of her, a shiver rolling down her spin. She stopped and stared for a long time before finally gathering the courage to knock.

A voiced hailed from within, muted, "Come in."

Her eyes closed for a second as she bit her lip. Then the door swished open of its own accord, forcing her to move regardless of the nerves going haywire under her skin.

The Director looked up from his desk, hands laced together neatly in front of him as he leaned forward. A tired smile grace his lips and it was not entirely unfriendly - just distant. He told her to sit, gesturing at one of two guest chairs.

Tifa complied wordlessly, schooling her face as she settled into the cushions. She lifted her head to look back at him, worry creasing her forehead where he could not see.

"Fry, is it?" He inquired pleasantly.

She gave a hesitant nod.

"Ah, good. Would you remove your helmet please?"

The benign request was at sharp odds with the sudden panic that tightened in Tifa's stomach. Her fingers clenched the armrests of her chair and her brain locked up. She stared back at him through the visor, wide eyed and terrified.

"Fry?" The Director voice jarred her again. It did not bear suspicion or aggression, which didn't seem fitting to the situation. Perhaps it was simple curiosity, or maybe just protocol, but regardless she was backed into a corner that she couldn't escape.

She was dead no matter how you sliced it.

Slowly, her hands trembling, Tifa reached up and grasped the rim of her safety valve. With careful precision she lifted it off her head and she was surprised by how easily she maintained a blank expression as she revealed herself. A part of her exulted in the release of all the anxiety from having had to maintain the charade for so long.

What she hadn't expected was the soft laughter that drifted across the glass desk from the man as he leaned back in his chair. A bright gleam of curiosity lit his gaze as he studied her, one hand bracing the side of his face. He straightened and picked up a folder lying in front of him with a thoughtful frown.

"Well," Lazard began with an amused glance. "That wasn't quite what I was expecting, but if Angeal is willing to swear by you I have no complaint. Talent is talent."

Tifa reflexively choked on air for a second. "You're not…I'm not in trouble?" She sat forward tensely, fumbling for some semblance of normalcy.

"Trouble?" He echoed, a shadow of confusion forming across his brow. "I shouldn't think so. You're one of the best snipers we have - it would be foolish to pass that over in light of your gender." With a flick of his wrist he sent the folder sliding towards her. "Your next assignment. Once you have memorized the contents, burn it."

At first she stared dumbly at it. It was a red folder that said 'CLASSIFIED' in blaring white letters. Her heart skipped a beat, but she didn't dare look at it here with him watching so she met his gaze instead and tried to read his expression. She could not believe the simple acceptance in his easy smile.

"If you have any questions ask your assigned commanding officer. You will have a meeting in four days time with your squad to finalize the details." The Director added and glided over to his computer on squeaky wheels, effectively dismissing her.

Tifa stood, feeling significantly dazed by the unexpected turn of events as she pulled on her helm once again. "Thank you, sir." She said listlessly and made her slow, methodical way out of his office.

Her mind was still struggling to catch up with the sudden, drastic turn of events as she entered the elevator. She hadn't considered the possibility that they simply wouldn't _care _if she was female, and couldn't quite fathom how easily Lazard had dismissed it. But then, they didn't know who she was either, probably - if they had her reception would have been quite different.

The real kicker though, was the folder that she held almost reverently in her hands. Tifa still refrained from looking at its contents because if they were what she thought they were her knees might give out. Collapsing in the middle of the hall, as blissfully relieved as she might feel, was probably not in her best interest right then.

It was simply too perfect, and yet…she'd set herself up beautifully to be chosen, what with her demonstration during the test.

She swallowed hard. There were no excuses now - no way out of what she had to do. Everything was laid out in such a way that her mission was doing itself for her.

All she had to do was pull the trigger.

Tifa closed her eyes and wished away all the anxious fear that clamped down at her. When the elevator stopped they jerked back open, along with the doors.. A disgruntled sound may have tumbled unbidden out her mouth.

"Huh." The bald man in sunglasses said as he sized her up with a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth. With a shrug of his excessively broad shoulders he moved to stand beside her for the second time that day.

The doors closed behind the Turk with mocking finality and he casually leaned over to punch in his floor. His gaze passed over the red folder with practiced ease and Tifa shifted it out of sight with a narrow look.

He arched a single brow. "Special ops?"

Her spine was as taught as a bow string. "Yeah."

"Must be pretty good."

Tifa fidgeted and couldn't help but think that she must look really suspicious the way her fingers kept twitching. "Yeah." She forced out, lips thinning as she shut them firmly.

When the door opened again - to her floor - she practically dove into the hall. She didn't look back as she turned the corner and headed for her dorm. Only when she was safely locked within her room did she allow herself to sink to the floor and remove her helmet with a groan.

After her breathing had finally regulated and she could sit without listening anxiously every 20 seconds for footsteps approaching her door, she laid the folder out in front of her. She bit her lip, eyeing it almost disdainfully.

"Get on with it…" She grumbled to herself and flipped open the cover.

Tifa stilled as she read. When she had finished her head fell back with a dull thud against the door. She stared at the ceiling, her heart hammering in her chest.

Knowing what she would find had done nothing to diminish the feeling of trepidation that settled in her guts at seeing the official document. It was no longer a supposition, but a reality staring her in the face.

A very ugly, harsh reality.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** I don't even want to know how long it has been. I'm in some denial about that. I'm pretty much convinced that my writing just sucks, hence the lack of updates. I must be an absolute disaster of an author to have so many unfinished stories, but my goal is to update three of them today. We'll see about that. Sooo, back to _this _story - I'm taking my sweet time getting anywhere, aren't I? Well, in the next couple of chapters the shit will hit the fan. You know, if I actually get there before next year, which is my plan. I'm _really _going to try and actually update this thing on a frequent basis again because I'm so miserable with myself for not finishing anything. Bear with me, if anyone should still follow this - I wish I were better.

Ahem, now for some shameless advertising - I drew FF7 chibis of my favorite characters and they are posted at my deviantart account under the same name, Faerlyte. I even made one of Chaka, so if you're interested in seeing my version of him, go check it out. They're not too bad - for me anyway. It's helped me practice my coloring skills.

I was going to ask for reviews, but then it occurred to me that if it didn't suck you'd probably do that anyway.


	17. Chapter 17

**The Warrior**

_Chapter 17_

* * *

It wasn't until after Tifa had secluded herself in her small apartment that she realized she was minus a lighter. After some debate she decided against blasting her waste basket with a fully upgraded Firaga – the spell was a bit unpredictable at times and definitely in the realm of overkill. As much as she'd cherish watching the Shinra building go up in glorious flames she didn't think it a good idea to start with her room. Someone might notice.

So her mission file was still in one pristine piece, glaring up at her from the counter top like a militant harpy. It didn't help that it was red. Why would anyone disguise top secret information in so obvious a color anyway? Why not make it vomit green? And without 'CLASSIFIED' advertised across the front.

Her eyes made a quick sweep of the room and settled on the ceiling. It was made up of panels that fit together over a metal framework, but there were no screws or bolts that she could see. So she climbed onto the counter, holding onto the cupboard for balance as she prodded the nearest panel with her hand. There was no give at first, but a well aimed punched popped it loose easily enough.

With an unnecessary glance around, as if someone was going to catch her, she snatched up her folder and stowed it in the ceiling. The panel fell back into the place, no trace of its secrets to be seen as she hopped down to the floor with a satisfied smile.

She was reaching for the door panel when a vibration in her pocket made her jump. Frowning, she slid a hand into her pocket and retrieved her phone, flipping it open. The screen blinked on and a message appeared.

Ah, Yuffie strikes backs. Of _course _she wasn't going to be reasonable - that wasn't int the Wutai princess's vocabulary.

_Yo, _

_ OMG you have to get me away from this guy - I'm startin' to talk like him! Next thing you know I'll be undulating around like a fricken weasel. _

Tifa's left brow traveled towards her hairline. _Weasel?_

_-Meet us in Sector 7 at the Seventh Heaven Bar, 3 o'clock sharp. And don't forget the goods!_

_ Murphy_

She sighed inwardly, stowing the phone with a quick glance around the room. There was nothing left to do here and so much to do today that she scarcely knew where to start. Smuggling Yuffie's bag of stolen materia was as good a place as any she supposed. There was no way the girl was going to cooperate on that front, so it was left to her to get things done. Again.

It was 11 in the morning, which gave her 4 hours by Yuffie's time frame. The problem being, how did one just slip out unnoticed with a sack full of suspiciously materia shaped lumps that everyone was looking for? Somebody was bound to notice.

A debilitating sigh rippled in the oppressive silence that the hallway provided as she stepped out. There was one person who could help her, but she was loathe to ask him. In fact, she thought it best if she avoid him altogether, but life seemed determined the thwart her at every turn.

Tifa punched the arrow for the elevator with more force than was necessary. It was too much to hope that Sephiroth would be anywhere in the vicinity of his office, but she would check. He must have living quarters somewhere in the building - not that she would be allowed anywhere near them. That was a little too personal, especially given the circumstances of their unique...relationship.

If she didn't find him, well, she'd just have to figure something else out.

The elevator didn't take half as long as it usually did, which at any other time would have been a welcome change. When the doors parted and Soldier the cat sat staring up at her with wide, beseeching eyes Tifa paused for only a second. She stepped around him with a bemused smile.

"How did you get in here?" She asked and leaned back against the wall.

Soldier meowed and stood, dragging the length of his body along her calves as he gazed up at her through smug, half lidded eyes. The tip of his tail flicked methodically as he peered up at her.

"On second thought, I probably don't want to know..." Tifa spread her hands regretfully, "I don't have anything for you."

The cat persisted however and with a grunt she finally relented, squatting to the floor to pass her hand over his back. He arched against her fingers and a soft rumble of pleasure began in his chest.

In no time the elevator had come to a stop at her destination and she stood with a parting pat on Soldier's head. To her dismay, he followed her out into the hall. She stopped and glared balefully down at his grinning, whiskered face.

"You can't come with me." Tifa told him flatly. "Sephiroth would make mittens out of you if you even came near his mice."

Soldier's half lidded eyes did nothing to appease her. They were a tad too pleased with themselves.

"That probably _would _make him go insane…" she muttered in afterthought and started down the hall. The white mitten cat bounded after her, his tail erect and curved slightly to the right as he streaked past. Tifa huffed in exasperation, watching as he disappeared around the corner. She followed at a more sedate pace, thankful that cats couldn't operate electronic doors. At least, not to her knowledge.

On second thought...she hop stepped into a jog to catch the rascal feline. It would be just her luck if he _could_. As she rounded the corner her fears were swiftly allayed and vigorously replaced by a stomach fluttering apprehension that had her skidding to a halt (translation; tripping).

Sephiroth was standing there squared to Soldier like they were about to face off with six shooters. The cat went to dive past him and was immediately apprehended by a boot in the chest, halting his advance. She could only imagine the affronted look on Soldier's face.

"Oh no you don't." He enunciated to the culprit and swiftly shut the door to his office behind him. His eyes met Tifa's sharply, poised to speak.

"I'm sorry, I – it wasn't my fault I swear." Tifa stammered, her brain a hopeless pile of mush, "He followed me."

Sephiroth grunted inelegantly with a sharp glance at the cat as he flounced past with a reproachful sniff, "Odd how the little heathen gets around so easily in this place."

Her face softened into something that was almost a smile and she came forward on the balls of her feet with hands clasped neatly behind her, "I need a favor."

"Oh?" What a beautiful sardonic arched brow he had.

Tifa chose to ogle the carpet as she spoke, shoulders unusually tense under his full attention. "A certain materia thief may have stowed her stash in someone's locker and now she'd like it back."

"Ah," The General lifted his head with a reproachful sigh, "I wondered when this might come back to haunt me."

"You knew?" She looked up in surprise.

Sephiroth shrugged lightly. "I suspected."

Tifa narrowed her gaze, sensing a lie somewhere therein, but his face revealed nothing. "So will you help?" She implored earnestly.

He chuckled, a despairing sound the way it burbled from his throat. He muttered almost too quietly for her to hear, "There's is little you could ask of me that I would not fall over myself to accomplish." His eyes would surely bore a hole into the wall the way he was staring at it.

Her cheeks flushed and she bit her lip as she made turned a quick 180, "I...ah...nevermind I think I can-"

"How do you feel about flying?"

She hesitated, glancing back, "Flying?"

"Flying." He repeated and he gazed down at her with a knowing smile that tripped the butterflies in her stomach all over again.

"I like it." Tifa answered slowly. "Why?"

Sephiroth leaned over her shoulder, his mouth a scant few inches from her ear, and said, "I'll show you."

A shiver ran down her spine. She was holding her breath as he straightened, her skin tingling. For a moment she just stared at him, stunned and very acutely terrified by the unwarranted sensations that he was causing to rear up inside her. She wasn't supposed to feel that way about him. It was wrong and it was stupid, and he really needed to stop _doing_ that!

"Let us retrieve your baggage first." He stepped passed her with more elegance than any man should possess under _any_ circumstances.

Tifa followed after him with her thoughts a jumbled mess and a tight knot of apprehension in her stomach.

* * *

"This was _not _what I had in mind." She enunciated loudly, a tremor threading its way into her voice as she took a step back, and another.

Sephiroth leveled her with an impatient scowl, his hand extended to her, "I will not drop you."

"That's not what I'm afraid of." Tifa hedged with an anxious glance over the edge of the balcony. _He had to be out of his mind_. "That's at least 1000 feet down!"

He lifted his hands in armistice, beseeching, "I swear to you, you will come out of this completely unscathed. As will I."

"There has to be an easier way than this." She insisted stubbornly and her eyes lingered on the rooftops far below. My, but did those buildings look so very far away. Her throat tightened a bit.

Sephiroth growled his impatience, "Then I will go without you."

"What?" Tifa hugged the materia bag possessively behind her as he reached for it. "You can't be serious. The fall would kill you!"

His hands clenched, as did his jaw. A hard glint came to his eyes and she paled, but there was no time to react. With a speed that defied the laws of physics he had gathered her into his arms and hurled them both out over the edge of the building with a powerful leap, _spinning _through the air.

If she hadn't been so terrified she was sure she would have thrown up all over his chest.

All sound died in her throat however as she scrambled to hold on to the only thing within reach, which was the lunatic that had thrown them both to their deaths. His grip tightened at her squirming and she buried her face in his neck with a whimper. She wasn't going to look. The air was ripping past them like a freight train, the ground would be coming up and she was going to _die!_

Without warning their descent slowed, like a draft was buffetting them away from the ground. Tifa dared to peek out of one eye, found herself clinging rather embarrassingly to Sephiroth's neck, and pulled away as far as circumstances would allow, which wasn't very. Her eyes summarily widened and she met his in silent amazement.

They were _flying. _She could feel a current of wind across her cheek, pulsing slow and steady, like a wing beat. _  
_

He wore a very self-satisfied smirk as he set them down on the roof of a nearby building, a residue of steel gray feathers fluttering down around them. She jumped out of his grasp and relished in the sensation of having something solid under foot once again, reconciling herself with the fact that she was no longer dying. Her heart had yet to cease beating itself into a seisure.

A stiff breeze threw her hair about wildly as she looked back at him, a chill settling in her bones that dimpled where her skin was bare, "How...?"

"A gift of my unique genetics." He answered, gazing out over the rooftops with a pensive frown. When he turned back to her it was with a question, "What did the Director want?"

Her eyes shifted away from his reflexively. "I can't tell you."

He reached out to touch her and she flinched away. His hand fell at his side, but he continued, "You were given an assignment. I will know what it is."

Tifa glared, "Yes. Four days from now you'll know." With that she turned her back to him, arms crossed over her chest as she breathed in shakily. "Take me down, please."

Sephiroth sighed inwardly with a forlorn glance at the back of her head. That had not worked so well. There were ways he could force the answer from her, but he was trying to foster better relations, not destroy what little they had to start with.

"Come then." He said and offered his hand again.

This time she only hesitated for a second before accepting it. He lifted her up and then they were in the air again, gliding to the ground by forces she could not begin to understand. Sephiroth seemed to command them with ease though – it was like he was bending the air to his will. Either that or he had an enormous pair of invisible wings somewhere.

As soon as they were on the ground he released her and stepped back, uncertainty flickering across his face. He looked away from her as he spoke, "You will protect Angeal like I asked?"

Tifa blinked and a tiny thread pulled in her chest, "Yes. It's already been taken care of." She paused, searching his face, "But you..."

"I will be fine." He said dismissively. His eyes shifted back to her, "Will you?"

She shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny, but her expression hardened in stubborn refusal to be coddled. "I'm not yours to be worried about, Sephiroth. If you remembered, you'd know that."

It was the first time she'd mentioned it to his face. She could tell it bothered him by the way he stiffened and broke eye contact, as if it hurt to look at her. "You could tell me." He suggested.

Tifa shook her head, "It wouldn't matter if I told you. You have to remember...otherwise I won't really know if-" Words failed her and she hugged herself, eyes burning.

"If what?"He looked at her plainly, waiting.

"If you really are different." She finished. "You have to be who you were then and make the choice again. Maybe...you'll choose differently this time."

At that she turned and walked away, leaving him alone in the abandoned alleyway. He watched her go with a wretched longing written all over his face and his heart stuck in his throat. He wished he could tell her that he would, but he didn't know if that was true.

* * *

_Later that night..._

Something was amiss. It curled beneath his skin, festering like an infection that continued to spread as the day wore on with her continuously in his thoughts. When the hour came and she was conspicuously absent, he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that something was indeed very wrong.

The floor had given a shudder like the dying breath of some distant earthquake, interrupting his pacing. He stilled, frowning deeply at the odd occurrence. But he gave no more thought of the short spell that was surely the shifting of the earth's plates under foot. It was the top of the hour and everyone but the one person he wished to see was present and waiting for him to command them.

Sephiroth gazed at the assembled group, his jaw so tight he would no doubt feel pain the next morning. He could feel their expectant eyes shining from behind their visors. Some of them glanced around as if searching, but no one dared speak up.

Tifa was not here. It vexed him at first, which gradually grew into anger, and then emptiness. He split the teams up dispassionately, for without the presence of his star pupil the exercise meant nothing to him. Irrationally he kept careful watch on the door, expecting her to show and miserable because she had not.

As she lesson drew on he was beset with a feeling of helpless desperation unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. It wasn't until the lesson was coming to its end that the nature of the foreign sensation finally registered with him; he was afraid.

He could not make sense of it at first, but the agitation was very real. Then someone in the room made a sound – a horrible, anguished sound – and everyone turned. The soldier in question held his phone in limp fingers as he sank to the floor with a friend who gripped his arm worriedly. When asked what was wrong he just shook his head and stared at that little screen with raw emotion leaking from his eyes. The others crowded around to read over his shoulder the message that had left him so quiet and one by one the room fell as silent as death.

"Speak." Sephiroth commanded in a hushed tone that brooked no argument.

One Soldier lifted his head to look at his Commander, a lump moving in his throat as he swallowed. "Sector 7 sir," he said quietly. "They dropped the plate on Sector 7."

"Jack's brother and sister live in Sector 7." Someone whispered.

"Is anyone still alive?" Asked another.

The shock was as such that only a few noticed the eery blankness that engulfed the General's face as he pivoted sharply on his heel and sprinted out the door.

* * *

Roughly _1 hour earlier..._

Tifa was seated in a dimly lit corner of the 7th Heaven Bar with Vincent, Jesse, Yuffie and Chaka, hashing out the final plans for the day of the Presiden't public address. They'd been discussing it for the better part of 2 hours and still found themselves at an impasse.

"Someone has to get Angeal." Chaka maintained, "And we're the only ones with a reasonable shot of doing that without drawing attention to ourselves."

"We could do it the morning of, before the assault begins?" Yuffie suggested. "Leave him with the Docs and meet up with Vinnie here at the South passage entrance to Deepground once we've cut the power."

The Wutai princess ignored the baleful glance that the aforementioned 'Vinnie' bestowed upon her.

Tifa chewed her lip pensively. "The boundary on his chip might not allow him to go that far."

"It will let him out of the building." Chaka said. "It's not like they don't let him move through Midgar."

"I wouldn't do it any sooner than an hour before lock-down – less chance of detection." Jesse answered. "Shalui and me could rendezvous with you in the city somewhere an hour before. We'll take Angeal from there and you get into position. Once their power is out they can't pull the plug – not until it comes back on."

"What do you think?" Chaka's braids danced around his shoulders as he turned his head to the final prognosticator on the subject who, up till then, had not spoken. The red caped man in the darkest corner at the table with eyes that glittered made a frightening picture

Vincent inclined his head, "I see no problem with it."

"Alright! Let's _do it!_" Yuffie announced with a fist pump.

"What about you?" The blond girl balanced precariously on the rear legs of her chair, feet propped on the table as she looked at Tifa. "How are you going to get out once things start to heat up?"

The other woman tried to give a reassuring smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, "I'll be fine."

Jesse looked like she was about to object when a ruckus outside drew everyone's attention.

"What in the hell fire-" Chaka was on his feet and heading for the door when it burst open of its own accord, admitting one very disheveled looking Biggs. Behind him where three others sporting various gunshot wounds.

"Everybody to the maintenance stairs _now_!"

Jesse jumped to her feet in alarm, followed by the rest of the table, "What-"

Biggs grabbed her forcibly by the arm before she could finish and made for the door with a determination that took the starch out of everyone in the room. Everyone else followed in a rush of boots and silent exchanges of confused glances. Outside was utter chaos.

"What's going on?" Jesse demanded as they ran up ahead, pushing and shoving their way through a writhing mass of bodies moving in all directions.

"There gonna bomb the plate and drop it on Sector 7." One of the wounded answered quickly. "Barret is up there fighting them with some of our other forces, but we can't hold them!"

People were screaming, some were crying. They were all running with all that they could carry of their lives, or nothing at all. There was no time.

"We'll be hamburger helper if that thing blows." Chaka said with an ominous glance upwards.

"How much time do we have?" Tifa inquired with an anxious glance behind them.

"Not enough for talking!" Biggs snapped.

No one argued with that and they fell into stride, running for all their worth through the underground city. Gunfire peppered the air as they drew closer. When the maintenance stairs finally came into view they caught a glimpse of the fire fight above – the dead lay draped cross the railings of the maintenance stairs or broken in the dirt at its base. Flashes of light illuminated the plate above, punctuated by distant shouts and the distinct ratatat of Barret's gun arm.

"We need to get up there and help them." Biggs said and made for the stairs.

Jesse nodded and made to follow when she suddenly stopped rigid. She whirled around with a horrified gasp, "Marlene is still at the Bar."

"Forget her, we don't have time!" The man with the red bandana retorted.

Jesse hesitated with an anguished look between Biggs and the others who waited for her to decide.

"I'll get her." Tifa said firmly, without thinking.

"But-"

"Tifa!"

Her legs were moving before she even realized what she was doing, the voices of her friends drifting off behind her as she augmented the distance. It would take her another ten minutes to get back, winded as she was. She desperately hoped that the others could buy her enough time to get in and out.

If not...well then she hoped the 7th Heaven Basement was well-fortified.

The streets were empty at least so her path was unimpeded. Everyone had already fled or hid in their homes.

Tifa skidded around the corner to the Bar's front porch, skipping up the steps with two long strides. Her sides were heaving, sweat stinging in her eyes as she pushed through the door inside. It was empty by all appearances.

"Marlene!"

The girl appeared immediately from the doorway that opened up behind the bar, her doll securely in her grasp. "Where'd everybody go?"

Tifa felt a wild surge of relief and ran forward to pick her up. "We need to go sweetie."

She looked hesitant at first, but relented with a cautious nod and allowed herself to be hoisted into the older woman's arms. "Okay." She said, glancing around curiously.

If Tifa thought she was winded before it was nothing compared to toting Marlene at a sprint across Sector 7. She'd lost sensation in her legs and that fact that she was still moving was a miracle in itself. The number of people in a rush to escape had thinned considerably, but that was hardly a good sign. Sheer will and determination were all that fueled her body now.

When at last the boarder gate between Sector's 7 and 6 came into view Tifa allowed herself a small breath of relief. Then a distant sound like an explosion rippled the air and she inhaled sharply, making one last wild plunge for safety. As soon as she was some fifty fit within Sector 6 her legs gave out and she fell to her knees exhausted, catching herself and the girl with one hand in the dirt.

Marlene clung to her wide eyed and then a massive shock-wave flattened them both to the ground. Tifa groaned, a plume of dust rising from where her face lay breathing into the dirt. When she lifted her head there was a haze of dust settling around them and the gate behind them was a twisted mass of shredded metal.

"What happened!" The girl wailed as she gazed at what remained of Sector 7, "Daddy!"

Tifa slipped an arm around her waist just as she was gearing up to run and held her back, "Hey, it's okay Marlene. Your dad wasn't underneath the plate."

_I hope. _He was fighting above it, but that didn't fill her with much confidence. He could be just as dead up there as he would be down there.

And the others...Tifa breathed in slow and deep, letting it out in a steady flow. They were okay. They _had _to be okay. As she got to her feet, tugging Marelene up with her, a deep and unrelenting rage took hold of her. Rage at Shin-Ra and all they stood for, rage at herself for being involved with them, and rage at Sephiroth for not making things simple enough.

There was no telling how many were dead. Some had gotten out to be sure, but not all. Not all.

"Damn them all to the depths of hell." She muttered under her breath. "Come on Marelene," a little louder, "Let's go find the others."

With one lingering glance behind her at the wreckage, they set off through Sector 6. There were Avalanche hideouts throughout all the Sectors, but finding them was the problem. If Barret and the others had escaped they would be on the run though. She had to believe that someone would find her or vice versa.

There were people milling around everywhere. A crowd was gathering as Tifa lead Marlene away from the gate. She kept moving against the flow of people, threading her way around them until she found some space to breath. The further from the Sector 7 entrance they got the less people there were until finally a familiar face came running to greet them.

"Tifa!" It was Yuffie, and right at her heels was Chaka. "Oh my god, you're alive!"

She nodded breathlessly, drawing Marlene up beside her. The girl had her thumb firmly clamped in her mouth as she gawked up at the two with big, glossy eyes.

"Daddy?" Her voice was small and quavery.

Chaka grinned big, "He's fine kiddo. He's just fine."

Marlene's face cracked in a watery smile and she ran forward, wrapping her arms around his legs.

"Uh, there there." He patted her awkwardly on the head, glancing pointedly at Yuffie who was making cooing noises beside him. "Quit looking at me like that." He grumbled self-consciously and lifted the child up with a playful bounce. "Come on you, you're dad's sick with worry, hmm."

"You coming with?" Yuffie looked at Tifa.

"Sure." She answered breathlessly. "I'm not going back _there._" Everyone knew what she meant from the vitriol in her voice when she spat the word to the ground. She'd undoubtedly do something ill advised if she did.

They rendezvoused with Jesse and Biggs at the Sector 5 gate and made for the underground through a passage under a bistro. The owner waved cheerfully at them as they disappeared down the lift, watching from the door so that no one who wasn't supposed to be there saw them. Then they were in another passage descending through stone and dirt until they came to a large metal door.

It was chaos on the other side. But Barret was there and Tifa didn't think she'd ever seen a man so palpably relieved as he was when Marlene called out to him in a high pitched squeal of delight. This time there was no concern for appearances. Light glistened silver off the streaks that lined his face as he lifted her up in a massive bear hug, eyes squeezed shut.

Tifa felt an invisible weight lift off her shoulders and she smiled. Barret caught her eye from across the room and gave her a brisk nod. Then he turned and walked away, his daughter held high on his shoulders.

"Alright," Jesse whirled around with her hands on her hips. "We've got a shit load to do and not enough time to do it."

The rest of the night moved like a blur. People coming and going, messages being relayed, damage reports coming in through monitors, radios and cell phones - the place was a mad house. At some point during the night Tifa had fallen asleep on a cot in the hallway. When she awoke again it was midnight and she was fully alert. So was the rest of the base. No one but her had taken rest and for that she felt guilty as she entered their main operations room. Jesse was there at the big screen on their host computer working feverishly at something.

"Hey." Tifa said quietly and stopped off to the side of her chair. "Where are the others?" She meant Vincent, Yuffie and Chaka.

"The three musketeers are down in Sector 7 helping with the wreckage." She answered distractedly. "I'm working on data recover

Tifa hummed to herself, thoughtful as she gazed at the screen. There was a distant look in her eyes, but she said nothing of what she thought. What she needed was some coffee and maybe to go down to Sector 7 to lend a hand. Her heart constricted a little at the reminded of what had happened and she inhaled shakily.

"I think I'll go help look for survivors."

The other woman cast a warm brittle smile over her shoulder, "They'd be glad to have you." She murmured.

* * *

_Three Days Later..._

Her phone was off the hook with messages. She was officially MIA and not doing anything about it. From sun up to sun down, though they could scarcely tell between the two down here, she'd been digging out Sector 7. So far they'd found one survivor - a cat. The rest were just remains of the dead, and not much at made Tifa sick to her stomach, but she kept at it anyway because it was the only thing stopping her from storming Shin-Ra in a homicidal rampage and getting herself martyred. She no longer feared what Barret asked her to do. She found she couldn't wait to pull the trigger.

And she did, every night that she was down there until this very morning. She set up a shooting ground in Sector 4 and shot for 2 hours until her shoulder was too sore to endure the recoil. There was plenty of fodder skulking around in the shadows for her to practice on and the Sector 4 residents thanked her for it.

Now all she had to do was get back into Shin-Ra HQ and explain why she'd been missing. Sephiroth had tried calling her five times since that night, but she'd shut her phone off. Let him think she was dead – it served him right.

Inwardly Tifa recognized that it wasn't his fault and he probably didn't deserve that. At least, not recently. But she'd been too bitter and angry to care.

Now she was meeting her team in half an hour for briefing and he still didn't know if she was alive. She sighed and quickly tapped in a message. "_I'm fine_." It read, and sent it to him. Then she dressed into her uniform and made for Shin-Ra HQ.

To her infinite surprise, and equal relief, no one balked at her arrival. She suspected she had Sephiroth to thank for that – no one else could have covered for her absence, or would have. The others spared her but a glance. All attention was on the squad leader, a short, but stocky man with a square jaw jutting out from under his visor. His name was Carmine.

"There will be six of us in total placed in strategic points surrounding the area." He said and spread a map out on the table. The meeting was being held in his personal quarters, which she noted were three times the size of hers. "Here, here, and here. Two per position. One of you will be in charge of defense, and that means finding any snipers before they find the president. The other is looking for one of these people."

He laid down a series of mug shot photos, all but a few that Tifa recognized. Barret was one, Biggs, Wedge, Jesse, and even Vincent had gotten in there, though his involvement in Avalanche had only just started. There were three others she didn't know, but had seen at the base. One was labeled Shalui. "I don't need to tell you to shoot to kill if you see any one of these faces."

"No sir." The six echoed.

"You." He pointed at her. "You'll be partnered with Benty." He gestured to the skinny Soldier standing off to her left with a sullen lilt to his mouth. "I want you positioned on building #4, right here." His fingered stabbed at the map and he gave her a sharp, appraising look. "Understood? You can get there using the service ladders – just don't be seen."

"Yes sir." Tifa and Benty replied in unison.

"Good. You have two hours to get into position. The president's address will start at 1100. Keep your eyes peeled." After that Carmine dismissed them, shifting his attention to the other two teams.

Tifa and Benty left without a word to each other. He was not interested in conversation as they walked and that was fine by her. They went to their respective lockers to collect there things in silence. When her partner wasn't looking she sent a swift message to Cid with the coordinates to her location. Then they were on their way again. Benty took the maintenance stairs rather than the elevator so she followed. He probably knew the lay of the land better than she did anyway.

And he did. The building they were to be stationed on was ten stories tall with a huge spire jutting up from its roof. It was a garish thing with old gothic buttresses, gargoyles guarding its upper tower, and carved stone balconies at every window. It looked to be a hotel of sort, for the luxurious. They used the ladders in the back to climb up to the narrow walk that encurcled the upper spire. The thing was all sharp angles and dark foreboding.

"I'll take left." Benty said. "You got the President?"

_Yes, yes I do._ Tifa simply nodded and took up position on the right. A gargoyle stood coiled to strike between them, blocking her partner from view, but she could hear home opening his gun case. She did the same, her fingers having a wretched time of undoing the clasp, shaking as they were.

It was another hour and a half yet until anything happened, but knowing what she was about to do had her jumping at the wind whispering in her ear. And worse yet, she had no idea where the other two teams were going to be stationed. They might have her in _their _sights for all she knew.

She glanced around nervously and licked her lips. Her hands were sweating. Her rifle was set up on a tripod right on the corner of the building where another much smaller spire jutted up with sharp points so she was hidden from anyone to the right, but not from across the square.

_This is it_, she thought. Whatever happened today would ultimately decide the future of Avalanche and Shin-Ra, and quite possibly the world.

* * *

_ I'm fine._

Those words had done little to ease his mind since he'd received her message that morning. On the contrary, Sephiroth was going mad with furious rage as he stormed the HQ building in search of her. There wasn't time though and he had a sick feeling in his stomach that he knew exactly where she was.

The Sniper division had been dispatched this morning. He'd assured everyone, despite not knowing himself, that Fry was fine, and summarily ensured that no one would question her sudden arrival for duty. He told them he'd sent her out to look into the wreckage of Sector 7 incase there were survivors. He had no idea that she really had been down there doing just that.

It was something she would do though.

He'd looked everywhere for her - as much as could be allowed without drawing suspicion, and found nothing. He was relieved to know that she was alive, but the question remained just how long that would remain true. Although what he was going to do short of throwing himself into her path he didn't know. She might take it the wrong way, considering the President had just killed hundreds of people in an act of sheer brutality. He couldn't care less if the fat man lived or died, but he _did _care about what would happen to her if she were caught.

Assassinating the President, however vile he might be, was not conducive to a long and healthy life.

* * *

The last hour and a half passed at such a grueling pace that Tifa thought she might lose herself in a fit of hysterical panic, but she kept her nerves in check and waited. Waited and watched as the streets amassed with people far below. A platform had been erected where the President would stand, a mic and pedestal at its center. A fine cloth hung from the back of it with Shin-Ra's symbol embroidered in gold.

There were guards everywhere, both Soldiers and Turks. They were stationed all along the back side of the platform. A large fountain, which dominated the center of the town square, took up the space behind them. It was at least 50 feet in diameter. The statue of an angel rose up from its center spewing water from the horn at its mouth.

Tifa tried to make a show of looking for enemy snipers, but she knew that there were none. So she tried to find the other two teams instead. She'd succeeded in finding one, but the other eluded her still and it was almost time.

A low roar emanated from below when the President's limo came puttering into view. The crowd's cheer rose in octave as it came to a stop at the base of the platform. The rear doors opened and three figures stepped out.

The first was a woman in heels and a red dress, her blond hair pinned to her head neatly. After her came the President and last...last was the one person she really didn't want to see down there. It was his hair that she saw first and then came the sinking feeling in her stomach as the rest of him emerged. She shouldn't have been surprised, but she didn't want him to be there. Some stupid part of her feared what he might think of her after this.

Tifa swallowed hard and glanced at her watch. _5 minutes. _Her hands were so clammy she could barely hold the rifle still. She blinked sweat out of her eyes and took a deep breath, glancing to her left at the gargoyle. Benty was over there somewhere.

_Now or never_, she thought. "Benty!" She whispered urgently.

Nothing.

Tifa ground her teeth and set her rifle down carefully, edging closer to his position. "Benty!" A little louder.

His head poked into view, "Yeah?"

"I've got a problem."

"What is it?" He asked with an edge of impatience.

"My rifle is jammed." She explained.

"Well fix it."

Tifa felt her hands clenched. "Would you just take a look at it?" She grumbled. "I've tried fixing it."

She heard something that sounded like a curse and then the creek of leather as he stood up. Quickly she lunged for the statue, pressing herself against it, and waited until he'd come around. He stopped almost immediately and started to turn in alarm when she caught him square in the face. Benty went down with a groan and she followed up quickly with a second punch.

The young man fell limp to the stone, blood dribbling down his chin. She pulled some thick rope from her bag and tied his hands behind his back before dragging him off to the side. By now her heart was pounding so fast she knew she'd never be able to hold the cross airs steady for more than a second.

Tifa stumbled to her knees back at her position, looking uneasily over her shoulder a the man she'd just knocked unconscious. If he came to...but there was no time. Her head turned sharply back to the proceedings below and it hit her with the force of a bullet that it was already happening. The President was at the pedestal glancing behind him uncertainly. Sephiroth was beside him and it felt like he was staring right up at her - he was _looking _for her! Tseng had his hand pressed to his ear and was speaking to someone via radio. Then the guards started to move.

She took aim. Her body was trembling so violently it was a wonder she didn't drop her rifle off the edge of the building. She took a breath, then another, long and sweet. She took aim again, concentrating with all her power and willing herself not to fail.

In her peripheral she saw him move in a blur of silver and black, but she was already squeezing the trigger. The rifle kicked with a concussive blast that seemed to shake the very buildings. She watched in detached fascination as the President fell. This far away she couldn't see the damage, but she knew she'd hit him and she was fairly certain it was fatal.

Her lips thinned grimly. That's when the second shot came.

Tifa cried out as her shoulder exploded in pain and she threw herself to the ground. With her good arm she hauled herself bodily across the stone towards the back of the building, her knees scraping painfully against the stone as she crawled. Through the blinding ache she could hear the distant thump thump thump of a chopper.

"Come on," She gritted her teeth and scrambled the last distance, throwing herself behind the tall spire of the building. The shot had come from the North and she was hiding on the South facing side. She waited, catching her breath with one hand clamped against the gunshot wound in her shoulder in a vain attempt to stem the bleeding.

When the chopper finally came into view she exhaled softly, shutting her eyes in a grimace. The blonde man with goggles at the controls and a cigarette between his teeth was dodging _bullets. _They were shooting at him. He was yelling at her with a sharp had gesture to _get the fuck in_, but she was going to have to jump and only one arm was working. Tifa swallowed hard as she gauged the distance, which shifted as the helicopter did, and she didn't like what she saw.

"Shit shit _shit!" _A sound emerged from the back of her throat like a battle cray and she launched forward, leaping of the edge. Her shins cracked hard against the edge of the fuselage where it opened up into the cabin, but she was able to get a hand on the indention in the floor where a seat usually attached.

"Holy fucking shit, kid, I've got a hole in my fuel tank!" Cid roared from the front. "I'm gonna have to land or we'll be crashing instead."

Tifa was too dizzy and in pain to comment. She held on for dear life and prayed that they came out alive because when he said 'land' he meant it in very loose terms. Really, it was a glorified crash. He mentioned something about auto-rotating, and then they were falling at a slightly less than out of control pace, but still fast enough to go splat at the bottom.

Then he pulled back and they were suspended in the air for a brief few seconds, before the helicopter settled to the ground with a thud. The landing gear collapsed beneath them, knocking the wind out of her as the floor came up to meet her, and then...nothing happened. It was all quiet and still, save for a creak of metal here and there.

She dragged herself out, fully aware in some distant part of her mind that if she didn't move now they were going to find her. Cid was already out of the cockpit. He gave her a hand down.

"I'm sorry." She mumbled.

"Sorry?" He slapped her on the back and guffawed. "You just made my fucking day! Didn't think you had the guts for it, kid, but you're somethin' else, eh?"

A fraction of a second later he noticed the blood. His brow made a wurroed furrow, "You okay?"

Tifa brushed him off, "Yeah, I'll be fine. We should go."

So they ran and every where they ran people were closing in. "Fuck." Cid swore up ahead and took a sharp left, then skidded to a halt with another curse. It was a dead end.

They turned around and headed back, the throng of people just no reaching the intersection, only now there were guards, and here and there a blue suit. It was easier to pick them out as they were running and shoving people aside. Occasionally one would trip. Cid sprinted off down the next empty street and Tifa followed. She didn't dare look behind her, but waited for the next gunshot that might send her to the grave.

There were shots, but so far none had hit their mark.

The next corner they rounded landed them face to face with Sephiroth as he dropped to the ground in front of them, his sword raised. Cid backed up, one hand braced protectively against her. She gently pushed it aside and stepped forward.

Sephiroth sheathed his sword swiftly, "Follow me. Be quick."

Tifa didn't wait for an explanation. She did as she was told and hoped that Cid would do the same. Sephiroth hadn't helped her this far just so he could turn her in to the authorities. If anyone could get them out of this mess, he would.

Several turns later, a back alley, and they were on another street. This one was deserted. Here he stopped and turned to them. "There is a secret door in and out of Midgar. Take this." He handed them a card. "It will unlock it. Follow this street till it comes to the wall – there will be a service tunnel the drops down underneath the road through a manhole. Follow it and it will bring you to that door."

She accepted it wordlessly, her hands still shaking from adrenaline and fear. "What about you?"

His mouth opened to reply, but no sound emerged. Then he dropped like a stone, landing with a grunt on the pavement. He lifted a hand to his head just as an agonizing sound unlike anything she'd ever heard tore from his throat It made her insides squirm and her heart stop, and then she knew.

"No!" Tifa snarled and fell to the ground at his side. His eyes had rolled back into his head and his body convulsed once, twice, and third time before his eyes suddenly opened dead to the sky.

"Tifa, we've gotta fuckin go!" Cid was suddenly beside her, twitching anxiously as he gazed from where they'd come. He gripped her shoulder hard, "He's dead, kid."

Without a word she shoved the card at him, a smear of blood across the vinyl surface from her fingers. She didn't even look at him, but he eventually took the card. When he tried to take her by the arm she nearly broke his wrist. He got the message then and took off without her.

"You're not dying. Not _yet."_ She emphasized sharply and place her hands over his sternum, fingers laced together and elbows locked.

Her mind settled into auto pilot. Thirty compressions, two breaths. She had no idea if it would work -she only knew what Zangan had taught her to do when magic was no longer applicable.

A minute passed, two and still nothing. The panic was inside her – she could feel it taking hold and spreading into her extremities with each second that passed where there was no response. His skin was still warm against her mouth, his body still warm under her hands, but there was _nothing_. Somewhere outside the realm of this reality someone was sobbing, but it couldn't be her.

Then she was angry. She was so angry she could kill him herself, _again. _Tifa bared her teeth in a growl and reared back, slamming her fist down on his chest with every bit of force she could muster. Her shoulder was throbbing, her blood was not only on her but him too - somewhere there was the thunder of approaching footsteps - and she didn't care.

She hit him again.

His eyes shot open. He gasped for air, coughing and immediately rolled over to vomit on the pavement.

Tifa blinked dazedly, one hand braced on the ground as she knelt. Her head felt fuzzy. She barely registered the feeling of hands as they wrenched at her arms, but she did feel the pain in her shoulder and that made her cry out. Somewhere in the back of her mind she thought she should fight, so she did.

The blow to the back of her head made short work of that.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Ummm, yeah, so that's the most bloated, rushed pile of dooky I've ever produced. It just came spewing out today, so there it is. I'm...not really happy with it, but I HAD to get through it and this was the only way I knew how. I wasn't going to drag this bit of the story on any further. I need progress damn it! It's only been...uh...I have no idea how long, but it's bad. It's really bad. My days as an author are numbered I fear...

My mom isn't here to proof read this so...I'm sorry about the epic grammatical failure. I have been suitably chastised. Thank you everybody, you're the best.

For your viewing pleasure: http :/ / faerlyte . deviantart . com /#/ d4axw46

Just remove the spaces. It isn't strictly fanart for the story, just a little sketch of Tifa.


	18. Chapter 18

**The Warrior**

_Chapter 19_

* * *

_For the awesome-est readers ever. Because you make me happy when I'm otherwise the world's biggest dirge. Umm, I should totally have replied to each on of you individually and I so will next time. _

* * *

Jesse let out a whoop of triumph, literally bouncing in her chair and almost fell off. Several heads turned curiously, but no one spoke as the young tech righted herself with a breathless smile. Splayed across the large monitor were the access codes to Sephiroth's control chip. All three of them.

They were going to get them _both_! Tifa would be so relieved. Jesse could barely contain her excitement, she had to go to the bathroom. It had been a long morning and she'd chugged a 16 ounce coffee breve with 4 shots of liquid vitality earlier.

In hindsight, she should have known better, but having worked within those walls with the same people for so many years had lulled her into a false sense of security. She trusted them all with her life – they were her family, after all. Unfortunately, while Tifa might believe in the General's capacity for good, she was not the only person who had been victimized by his betrayal and lived to tell about it, and one of those people just so happened to be in the same room as his termination codes.

And Jesse had left him virtually alone in that room.

People came and went, but no one was paying attention to the main computer because it wasn't their job. He was there, staring up at the screen when she got back. Her smile faltered just a little when she saw him, a worry line creasing her brow. Something was off. She glanced at the screen and felt her stomach plummet to the floor.

"Jonny," Jesse whispered, taking a step forward. Her feet seemed so sluggish all of a sudden like she were dreaming and the faster she tried the run the harder it was to move. "What are you doing?"

'_Are you sure?' _Having seen those three words more times than she cared to admit when dealing with computers, she almost cried at the absurdity of it all.

Jonny cast a fleeting glance over his shoulder and his eyes were so dark and solemn it made her chest ache. Then his finger was on the key and he was pressing it with a methodical slowness, and all she could do was _stare_. The codes flared to life and there was a noise from the computer like nails on a chalkboard, and then Sephiroth's vitals were displayed and her world went spiraling out of control. The toxin released into his brain and then everything was blinking and the noise was like a siren in her ears in time with the erratic beat of his heart, until there was nothing.

Silence. Blank silence. The lights had gone out.

Jesse felt herself sink to the floor. Her hands were at her mouth holding back the horrible sound she knew was trying to get out. She didn't know why she should feel so wretched – she didn't eve know him, had heard only the worst things about him. But Tifa had _asked _her and she had said she would, and now he was dead because she'd _left Jonny alone in the room!_

"Oh God," She choked. "What have you _done_?"

"I'm sorry Jesse." His voice cracked a little. "I couldn't...I couldn't let him _go!_" There were tears in his eyes when he looked at her and his fingers were clenching in his hair, "I'm sorry."

"Oh Jonny." Jesse just shook her head, disbelieving. "Tifa's gonna kill me."

The young man paled, blinking in surprise. "What? But..._why_?"

"I told her we'd _save _him." She drew out wretchedly and pulled herself to her feet. "I don't know what I'm going to do...what am I – how am I suppose to _tell _her..." Her voice trailed off into a deepening silence.

Seconds ticked by and no one made a sound.

"I..." Jonny pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and let out a sob. They fell away like anchors, "I'll tell her."

Jesse looked at him sadly, "You don't have to Jonny. I know- I mean, I understand. You had every reason to do it really. I should've _talked_ to you."

_Beep. Beep. _

They both turned with a start when the the screen suddenly lit up. Jesse gasped and dashed forward to see if her eyes had deceived her, and they had not. There was a steady readfrom the heart monitor; Sephiroth was alive.

Jonny appeared beside her, to which she cast him a wary glance. He lifted his hands submissively and said, "I'm not gonna do anything. Is he alive?"

"Yes." She confirmed. Her fingers moved across the keys lightning quick as a series of windows popped up on the screen, until she had a look at his brain. Then she whistled, shaking her head in bemusement, "Amazing. His body is already cleansing itself of the toxin and he's barely been alive for a minute."

"Will he survive?"

"Oh yeah." Jesse affirmed easily. "What I'd like to know is how did he come _back_? Were the Jenova cells still active in his body? He was dead for a good 2 minutes at least."

"I'm not a doctor." Jonny shrugged.

"Neither am I." She agreed and added with a flippant smile, "Probably don't want to know anyway."

"I'm...gonna get some coffee." He said and started to walk away. He stopped at the door and glanced back, "You want anything?"

In light of what had happened due to her last caffeine intake Jesse had lost her appetite for coffee. She politely declined.

* * *

Nibelheim was burning. This was a dream he knew well. Usually he was burning with it. It didn't matter if he was free or tied to a stake, he always burned and the villagers just looked on wordlessly.

This time was different. There was a surreal sense about this dream, like he'd been here before – had smelled this place before; the earthiness from the woods and grass, the smoke from the burning houses, and the blood. Everywhere he looked was stained with red, himself most of all – he reeked of it.

A distant voice beckoned him, though he could not make out the words anymore. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind was their echo's memory, but nothing else remained save a name: Jenova. There was just him and the sword, and the library that started it all.

And _her _shadow over everything; Tifa. He could feel her everywhere, yet she was nowhere at all in his mind's eye.

He'd thrown gas on the houses in the dark of night when they were all asleep. There was something disturbing in his quiet conviction, something that made him want to hide from this memory and never look at it again, but his body moved of its own accord, setting each building on fire. Then he waited for the townspeople to scurry from their houses, losing themselves in their hysteria, and butchered them as they appeared. The ones that escaped long enough to run he chased down and cut to pieces as well.

Men and women, young and old begged for his mercy, but he had none to give. He hunted them, intent on every last drop of blood they could bleed. In all the times before the villagers had haunted him in this dream, but now he haunted them and their screams fell on deaf ears.

He didn't want to see this. It was not his smile that he felt pulling at the corners of his mouth as he ran them through , not his maniacal laughter as he watched them die. His teeth throbbed at the sound of his voice and he imagined clawing his eyes out so that he could not see, but the dream was relentless and no amount of desperation could break him free of it.

_"This was not the way of a warrior" _something inside him whispered. _"You are the twisted experiment of an equally twisted man"_, it said.

That's when he saw _her _and just like that all the shattered pieces of his lost memory came together in a whirlwind of horrifying truth; this was no dream – this was his past. His heart stopped beating for what felt like an eternity – if only it had. He would've been happier dead.

She was so much younger then, almost a child, and happy. Or she had been._ "I hate you."_ Never had he heard such sincerity in three simple words and he braced himself for what he knew came next.

Tifa drove the sword through him to the hilt. He wanted to kiss her, again, for it, _fiercely_. But he was dying and it would taste of blood and bitterness. So he did not.

Sephiroth awoke with a scream. The last time he'd done that was when he'd been a child, which in the terms of his life was an eternity ago. His childhood had been brief and screaming was not befitting of a soldier. They'd made sure he remembered never to do it again.

That now was the first time in all these years that he had done so seemed apropos. He wondered if Tifa would appreciate the sentiment, but just the thought of her made his stomach so tight he had to clench his teeth to keep from throwing up. There was someone else in the room and he was not about to give them the satisfaction.

After many slow, deep breaths he opened his eyes. He was almost upright, his body strapped to a surgery table that could be adjusted anywhere from laying flat to how it was now in near vertical position. The man that stood before him was one he knew well for having woken to him many times over the course of his life in similar fashion.

"Hojo." The word might have been a curse the way it rolled of Sephiroth's tongue. He bared his teeth in a snarl, every inch of his body tensed against his bindings.

The man's smile was as maniacal as he had been in his dream, or rather, in his past. His eyes were beaming as he shuffled closer, slow and careful. "You haven't screamed like that since you were a boy." He made a tut tut noise and quickly scribbled something on a clipboard that appeared from behind his back. It was the man's constant companion – his _only _companion.

Rage festered under Sephiroth's skin. He bit back a growl, composing himself. "You restored my memory?" He asked finally.

"Yes." Hojo drawled and met his gaze sharply. "How does it feel?" He asked and his eyes were shining. "How does it feel to know that you are the chosen one? _Her_ chosen one?" And he laughed. He laughed himself into a fit and still he cackled and coughed, sputtering over the floor like something possessed. Perhaps he was. He was mad enough to inject himself with Jenova cells.

Sephiroth couldn't help the chilling smirk that was every bit the sinister creature Hojo had always wanted, "Oh yes," He agreed. "She did choose me."

Hojo's head bobbed in acquiescence pleasure. "The Promise Land awaits." Then he moved forward to undo the bindings on his legs, long narrow fingers as pale as bone working deftly with the buckles. Next were the wrist straps, then torso, the waist and last was at the throat. The scientist backed away then, still facing him with hands clasped neatly behind his back.

Sephiroth stumbled forward, almost falling to a knee. It took all of his self-control and willpower just to stay upright with some semblance of _dignity. _That he still had any before this man was a miracle in itself.

"My sword."

"Ah, a moment." Hojo scuttled across the room hunched at the shoulder like an old man though he was barely 50. He disappeared behind a row of empty test tubes and returned shortly after with the masamune dragging awkwardly behind him. It made a grinding noise where the tip scraped the ground.

Sephiroth's eyes burned with a silent, but deadly rage. He made himself wait and allowed a small measure of pleasure at watching the man struggle hopelessly with the mighty blade, where one slip of a girl had wielded it like a master. When at last Hojo shoved the hilt over for him to take and he wrapped his fingers around the familiar worn leather binding his retribution was almost complete.

With a quick flourish he tested its weight, examining the blade critically as he spoke, "Did you know that she stopped me with my own sword?" He lifted his gaze to meet the other man's with a cold, calculated grace.

Hojo stood unmoving, staring back. There was a fraction of sanity back in his eye that understood that the tide had suddenly altered course. "Who?" The word was clipped, impatient.

"The girl." Sephiroth supplied evenly. "The girl from Nibelheim."

His eyes narrowed behind his glasses and his lips made an ugly scowl, "What are you on about?" But he'd taken a step back as a flash of something like fear crossed his pale face.

Sephiroth brought the masamune around in a slow, sweeping arc until the blade rested gently against the other man's throat. "Where is she?"

Hojo did not move, but for a twitch at the corner of his left eye. There was a flicker of recognition there. "Oh, you mean the little cross-dressing whore that assassinated the president. She's no longer a concern, although really I should thank her – she saved your life you know – perhaps I'll send a card. It might even get to her before she's executed."

It took all of his discipline not to kill him right there, but Sephiroth had not gone through the brutal conditioning of his upbringing just to lose his temper now. Not to this man. He wouldn't give him that satisfaction either.

"Very well." He said conversationally. "Any last words?"

The fear in the man's gaze was palpable now as he burst into a hysteria induced fit of giggles – there was no other explanation for it. The seconds dragged on as the man doubled over, tears in his black eyes from some odd bit of humor that only he understood. Before long Sephiroth was laughing too, a strong and reverberating sound that drowned out the other man's high pitched nasal laugh. They continued together like for a minute or so and then the silence moved in.

After a moment Hojo spoke, spreading his arms out with a smile too big for his face. "Do it." He said. "Make history – you were _made _for it."

"Perhaps I will." Sephiroth murmured softly. His wrist flicked, a small almost indecipherable movement, and then the other man's head was falling to the floor in a gush of blood that made his insides roil. "But not for you."

Then he was doubled over heaving his guts out.

* * *

She was running from someone or something, but no matter where she turned all that moved ahead were tall buildings and winding roads with no end. Some would unleash a flock of Gargoyles – is that what you'd call it? A flock? - from their banisters that would fly down to chase her, but they weren't the only things behind her. There was pain in her shoulder, but she couldn't remember what it was from. Maybe she'd been stabbed or shot, it didn't matter. If they caught her she would die.

Sometimes there would be a person in front of her and she would call out to them, but as soon as her voice broke the silence they sped on ahead and disappeared. It might be Cid, it might be Marlene, Cloud, or Sephiroth. As soon as she took a new turn it would be someone else waiting for her.

"Stop!" She'd yell. "Hey!" But they never did and behind her she could feel the presence getting closer, reeling her in with a relentlessness that was terrifying. Somehow she knew she would never escape it, no matter how fast she ran or for how long, it would always be there.

Then it _was_ there, running at her heels and she could feel icy tendrils sliding up her legs, slowing her down. She did the stupid thing and turned around, but it was too late anyway, wasn't it? It had no face, no substance. It was a swirling black cloud of cold eyes and death. When it touched her she screamed and suddenly she was standing at her old piano in the house she grew up in.

Her hand reached for the keys and the flames exploded from behind it, consuming the walls and the floors. She jumped back and turned towards the stairs, but the way was barred by fire and then it was all around her, burning the flesh from her bones and she opened her mouth to cry out, but there was no sound.

Tifa jerked awake and received a blinding stab of pain from the back of her skull for her trouble. Her eyes blinked, adjusting to the dark. There were no distinct shapes that she could make out. She was lying on a limp mattress from the feel of it and that was probably the only furniture in the room. The only visible light was a tiny sliver maybe a quarter of the way up what she assumed was a door from the floor. It was probably a sliding hatch to pass food through.

So she'd been captured, that much she could remember. They had rung her bell pretty hard, but not _that _hard. She wondered morbidly if it might have been better If they had so she wouldn't have to remember. But Sephiroth had been alive when she last saw him - at least she hadn't failed in that.

She didn't stop to analyze the fact that she wouldn't be in this predicament if she'd left him for dead. It never crossed her mind to leave him. Would they have arrested him too? Or something worse? She didn't want to think about that.

Tifa tried to roll over and froze at the jolt of pain from her shoulder where she'd been shot. Probably one of the other snipers did it. She hissed through her teeth, fingering the wound gently with her left hand. Someone had bandaged it.

Why hadn't they just killed her?

A sigh rippled through the silence as she stared up at nothing. How long would she wait before she found out what they meant to do? An hour? A day? It felt like she'd been there for a year already, but that might be attributed to the dream she'd had before waking.

Did they intend to interrogate her? Her stomach knotted uncomfortably. It would make sense for them to, unless they'd somehow caught the others, but that wasn't very likely seeing as none of them were present for the ceremony. That was her task, not theirs.

Tifa frowned worriedly. It was one thing to die, but to be tortured? That was something she had no experience with. Withstanding pain was a part of her martial arts training, but nothing like she might encounter here. She rather hoped they would simply execute her – she intended to keep Avalanche's secrets, if it was the last thing she did.

But she'd been living half alive for so long that living or dying hardly made a difference to her anymore. Cloud had been the only focal point in her life for the last five years and when he was gone, her mission. Now she had nothing. Did he know that she had been taken? Would he even care?

Did _anyone? _

Tifa fought a grimace at that train of thought. It wasn't entirely fair either. There were some that probably cared, but not enough to risk a rescue operation and she wasn't going to blame them for that. She'd known it might be a one way trip if she were caught.

It was the fact that she didn't care that bothered her.

A lump formed in her throat, which she forced down with a determined swallow. Her fingers clenched for a moment and then she took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and her hands relaxed. She closed her eyes and cleared her mind, like she'd been taught, and then she waited.

She intended to be ready when they came for her.

* * *

They did come, some hours later. Tifa had no concept of time in that little room. When the lights suddenly came on her head had jerked to the side, one hand reaching up to cover her eyes, and that had caused a lot of pain from her injury. Then the door was opening and she was sitting up with her back pressed to the wall, breath hissing through her teeth.

Whoever she expected to see, and really she hadn't thought hard about it, the person standing in the doorway was not in that admittedly short list. His attire was blinding in its stark whiteness and his eyes glinted like steel. They were blue. There was no warmth in his face, all chiseled from unyielding stone. He had red blonde hair that was slightly combed over in the front and there was something undeniably familiar about him.

It was a moment before she recognized his likeness. She hadn't seen his father many times, but she'd had a very good look not long ago; this was Shin-Ra's son. His first name escaped her, but she had heard of him. Though he was a good deal more fit than his father, they shared the same harsh lines and self-assured eyes.

"Miss Lockheart." He stepped into the room with a casual flick of his bangs with his free hand – the other held a shotgun slung over his shoulder. Behind him stood two Turks; the bald one she'd met in the elevator not long ago and the red head, Reno, who never tucked in his shirt. The man in white gave them a nod and they shut the door behind him.

They were alone now, but the presence of the shotgun was all the warning she needed. Tifa didn't move, but stared at him and waited.

"Allow me to introduce myself," he began cordially. "I am Rufus Shin-Ra, son to the late President Shin-Ra, whom you are well acquainted with."

She watched him warily, waiting for the punch line. Despite his cool exterior there was courtesy in his manners. Whether the coolness was attributed to the loss of his father or simply a staple of who he was she couldn't determine. He seemed otherwise unaffected by her presence despite her hand in his father's death.

"What do you want from me?" Tifa asked finally.

"Answers." Rufus quipped. "Names and locations pertaining to Avalanche, to be more specific."

She stared back at him unmoving. Now was her chance to throw him off if she could. "You're going to kill me anyway. Why bother asking?"

"Pain is a most encouraging tonic." He supplied and his eyes never balked once from her face. There was something alluring in all that empty distance behind his gaze. She wandered what it was he might be hiding behind such thickly iced walls.

"For lies." She argued. "A person will say anything to make the pain stop. It doesn't work."

"It is fortunate then, that I find torture to be lacking in good taste." And he smiled. It was merely a flash, gone in the next instant, but it had been genuine.

Tifa couldn't help the uncertainty she felt showing on her face. If it was his goal to put her off her footing he had succeeded. He was not being unkind, but there was no doubt in her mind that he would kill her if it served his purpose. Her eyes flickered to the shotgun he held with exaggerated boredom in his left hand, waiting for the other shoe to drop. When there was none immediately forthcoming she felt even more nervous – it couldn't be this easy.

"If you will not answer my questions, you face the executioners chair." Rufus supplied for her. "If you do...I will merely hold you hostage until the entirety of Avalanche is apprehended."

Tifa sucked in a sharp breath – that wasn't what she'd been expecting. There wasn't so much as a fraction of anger in his tone or face. It was like he held no relation to the man she'd killed at all, and now he was offering her life in exchange for information.

Her fingers dug into the mattress as she sat gazing darkly at the floor. It was an ugly thing, all mottled white and gray linoleum. She would have preferred plain concrete.

"You have till tomorrow to give me your answer." He said to her silence. Then the door clicked and she was once again alone. At least they left the lights on this time.

Tifa stared at the door and wished for a punching bag on which to vent her frustration. Maybe she did care after all. She was actually considering the offer. The realization of that simple truth made her sick and that ultimately was the tip of the ice berg in her decision.

But really, she'd known the answer all along – she was just too afraid to acknowledge it.

* * *

He returned the next day with an assistant in a gray tweed skirt carrying a tray of food, the aroma of which set Tifa's mouth to watering instantly. She refrained from looking too closely at what was on it, choosing instead to focus her attention on the man whose mercy her life hung in the balance of. The shotgun was gone today, but in its place walked something far more formidable and curious.

Her brow rose a fraction. How did he get one of _those_?

Vibrant green eyes stood out starkly against jet black fur, half lidded as they appraised her. A curious smile pulled at her mouth as the panther promptly sat down at her master's feet with a bored expression - her head came to Rufus's waist. It was so reminiscent of Soldier the cat that she felt a pang of unexpected sadness.

Blinking, she averted her gaze back to the man. He was watching her with interest, the assistant already gone. They were alone again, in a manner of speaking.

"Have you come to a decision?" He inquired with detached politeness. A hand casually stroked the top of the panther's head.

Tifa ignored the stab of hunger in her belly and forged ahead, "Yes." She said. "I don't have any answers for you."

"You don't have, or you won't give?" Rufus pressed on pointedly.

She bit her lip. It hadn't occurred to her to tell them she didn't know anything because she did and it would be a lie, which she was not good at. They didn't know for certain that she was in league with Avalanche and she had reasons enough for what she did without that affiliation, but her hesitation was more than answer enough for a man like him.

Tifa looked away resolutely. "I won't betray them."

"Are they that important to you?" He queried after a moment and there was a trace of real interest in his voice that surprised her.

She looked up at him, taken aback, and the answer was easy, "Yes, they are."

There was a brief flash of something like disappointment in his eyes that was quickly swallowed in cold detachment as he nodded curtly and said, "Very well." The large cat at his side looked up at him, almost concerned like. He ignored it though and continued dispassionately, "You are scheduled for a publicly televised execution tomorrow at 1400."

And just like that man and feline were gone.

Tifa felt like someone had punched her in the solar plexus as she slumped back against the wall. It was hard to breath for that first minute, but as the knowledge slowly sunk in and the nagging pang of hunger persisted she relaxed. They had left the tray of food on the bed beside her and now that she was free from their scrutiny she allowed herself the satisfaction of eating something warm.

Pancakes weren't normally her favorite, but right then she might have been happy eating anything and they were exceptionally good – not your standard jailhouse fare. It would be one of the last meals she ever had and she'd be damned if she didn't enjoy something before she died.

It was the rest of the day that she had to worry about. With nothing to keep her mind occupied and mediation her only avenue for keeping it empty, there was a lot of time left for self-exploration that she really didn't care to have. It would have been better had he told her she had one hour. More sudden and terrifying, but better.

Tifa set the tray on the floor when she finished and crossed her legs on the bed, but instead of clearing her mind as she had before, she thought about people. All the people she'd known throughout her life and what they had meant to her. It was a surprisingly brief list, but the last one made up for that in time because she couldn't figure out exactly what he meant to her.

Now she would never know. In some twisted sense it was probably better this way - she wasn't sure she wanted to be alive when he remembered what happened. She really didn't want this new perception of his character to change, because she liked it.

That just made everything harder.

* * *

The next morning came quicker than she thought it would. She hadn't really slept – couldn't. There was too much to think about and no reason to save her energy.

When the door to her cell opened and a tall blonde woman in a red dress and dangerously high heels stepped inside Tifa felt her insides tighten. The woman did nothing to hide her disdain as she tossed a bundle to her with a clipped, "Get dressed."

One look at the garments in question and she returned with a flat, "I'm not wearing this." She threw the items back at the woman, hitting her square in her overly inflated chest. They dropped harmlessly to the floor, but the slight did not go unnoticed.

A snarl curled the older woman's lip. "Put them on or I'll have the guards put them on for you!" She snapped and whirled away, slamming the door behind her.

Sighing, Tifa sat back down on her bed and glared at the skirt lying innocuously on the floor. A part of her was tempted to test their boundaries, but on the other hand what she wore to her death really didn't matter enough for her to risk losing her dignity over something so stupid. If that pretentious harpy thought she could demean her by dressing her like a hussy she had another thing coming.

She stripped out of her clothes, which were admittedly a bit rank at this point, and yanked on the short leather skirt and cutoff sport top. She was glad for her uniform's suspenders, which she attached to the skirt as an afterthought. It was something she might have worn as a teenager when she was too immature to understand the difference between classy and raunchy.

Now she was going to die in it. There was some kind of irony in there she was sure of it.

The same two Turks that had accompanied Rufus on his first visit came to retrieve her now. Both did an admirable job of appearing not to ogle her even though they were. The long whistle that Reno couldn't resist did away with all pretenses however.

Tifa shot him a narrow look as the bald one took a hold of her right bicep, not unkindly. No one said anything. They just started walking.

It was the first time she'd been out of her cell since being here, wherever here was. It wasn't Headquarters, that she knew immediately from the make up of the building. They escorted her down a long hall and around a corner, and then into an elevator. It was large and the floor was rusted metal grating, and it made a grinding noise as it ascended the floors. There were only ten of those, which in comparison was nothing to the Shin-Ra building.

So where had they taken her? Another base perhaps? But that would mean they were no longer even in Midgar. Had she been out for that long?

Another series of hallways and turns brought them two a set of double doors. Two guards stood on either side unmoving. There they stopped and the Turks shared a look between them before glancing down at her.

_Must be nice having the height advantage all the time, _she thought grumpily.

"Uh," Reno cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck almost nervously, "You might want to keep your head down when we go in."

Tifa had a few seconds to process that mysterious statement before its relevancy flew scant centimeters past her left cheek in the form of what she could only assume was a very rotten egg, judging by the smell emanating from the wall behind her where it had hit as they entered. The bald Turk's grip tightened a fraction on her arm as he moved between her and the onslaught with admirable grace. He took a tomato to the side of his head without flinching.

She was overwhelmed by a ridiculously grateful feeling all of a sudden and pressed a little closer to the tall man. There were people screaming for her head, shouting obscenities, and it was all that security could do to keep them at bay. She had no idea so many had loved the president so ardently. Some of them were literally trying to claw their way through to get to her and there was nothing short of murder in their eyes.

It was terrifying. When her hand subconsciously found salvation buried in the bald man's suit he glanced down at her. With his sunglasses he was impossible to read, but she was not and his brow furrowed ever so slightly at her pale face. He fired his partner a meaningful look over the top of her head.

The red head seemed unsettled by this, but relented with a groan. Then he leaned in to her ear, whispering, "Ah, you might have been found guilty for dropping the plate on Sector 7, in addition to assassinating the President."

Her eyes widened and she stiffened, glancing between the two men in horror. It was a second before she realized she'd dragged both of them to a halt in her surprise. The deafening roar in the room was suddenly drowned out by the pulse of her blood in her ears. They had to drag her by force for some distance before her legs started to work again and by then she was so furious she could have beat the camera man half to death when he shoved said camera in her face.

If the Turks hadn't been there she might have. The idea that she would die for something she was not guilty of induced a panic in her that death in general never had. Now she wanted to fight, to bite, claw and kick - anything to keep her from being taken through that door in the far corner of the room, but it was too late.

Reno gave her a look that was almost an apology. His companion was as stiff as a board and wouldn't even look at her, but he continued to take the brunt of vegetables as they were thrown in her direction.

Rufus had not been joking about it being publicly televised. There were at least three different major News stations there with over ten cameras and at least five reporters, one of which seemed oddly familiar, but then she was swallowed by the crowd before Tifa could get another look. The door loomed unbearably close now and even a fool could see the fear in her eyes.

The woman in the red dress was waiting there along with an obese man in a green officer's uniform of some kind. He was heavily bearded with harsh, flat eyes and a booming laugh that drowned out all other sound in the room. What he found amusing she would never know, but the blonde smiled a vicious smile and gazed down at her with nothing but contempt.

Shin-Ra guards took the place of the Turks to escort her the rest of the way. The door was opened, and it was a massive round thing nearly two feet thick and solid steel. A wheel in the center would seal her inside. She was being pushed inside then and everything seemed a blur in her eyes. It wasn't until she'd been shoved into a chair that was bolted to the floor to have her wrists and ankles locked in that she knew in what manner she would die.

This was a gas chamber.

* * *

**Author's Note:** You know, I almost didn't do it, but the timing was so _perfect _and now I'm evil. Sigh. Have I mentioned recently that you guys are awesome? I couldn't believe the feedback and, ummm, the chewing out I received, lol – I mean that absolutely in a good way. I still maintain that certain parts of the last chapter were horribly rushed, but...as you can see I've updated in a more timely fashion and that is in large part because I've gotten to a place where I know exactly where I want to go from here on out. Yay! And because you guys are awesome. I said that, right?

I hope some of you are Rufus fans because I gave him some screen time for your benefit. I hope you enjoyed the subtle nod to the game as well. Happy reading! And reviewing? Maybe? Thanks!


	19. Chapter 19

**The Warrior**

_Chapter 19_

So...I recently received two reviews for this story from a new reader and I thought I might share them with the rest of you in the interest of discussion.

Courtesy of Hammerchuckery:

Chapter 4 review: I'm enjoying the character development, but all for one MASSIVE thing. What the hell is Tifa's goal?

Chapter 6 review: It's very difficult to read when the protagonist has no character to speak of. It's written well, but I can't latch on any longer and hope for something more substantial.

Okay. I'm having a hard time understanding a few things here - A. There's nothing constructive here for me to work with, B. You were enjoying the character development, but now there is none, and C. How is something well written while totally failing to give the protagonist a character to speak of?

I...I don't understand! But since you're all here and so very awesome for staying with this story, here's another chapter!

* * *

The guards marched a solemn tune as they departed. They had set the gas chamber's controls on a timer – just enough for her to become well and truly terrified, and not enough for that fear to wear off before the end. Tifa writhed against the bindings, a desperate sound ripping from her throat. Pain flared in her right wrist with a shock of numbness shooting into her fingers tips and she gasped, throwing her head back with a snarl.

Her eyes blinked rapidly, a horribly cloying sting making it hard to breath as she fought back the rising panic. There were cameras in the room and a voice droning on the speakers as the world prepared to watch her die. She tried to put the sound out of her head, to think of things that mattered, but all she could hear was that voice, bright and jovial, commentating for an execution like it was a chocobo race.

When the room gave a violent jerk the speakers cut out, or the person had stopped, and than there was a poignant silence. Tifa stilled, listening. The intercom burst alive with a sudden cacophony of shouting, pierced by deafening shriek and an alarmed voice calling to turn the cameras off. An edge of panic mingled in the sounds coming through the intercom, but no one opened the door.

Another tremor shook the building, this one harder than the last. Tifa's eyes skimmed the controls off to her right, pleading uselessly for something or someone to turn them off. Whatever was happening outside had completely turned their attention. She couldn't decide which was worse – dying in front of thousands of spectators, or dying alone.

The timer was counting down. A series of high impact explosions sounded out somewhere in the distance, punctuated by sharp lurches in the building foundations. Tifa reeled in her chair and started to twist and yank with all her strength, tearing skin where the binding chafed. Streams of blood spread across her hands like branches from a tree. She felt a flash of white hot pain in her thumb and she screamed through her teeth, but she didn't stop.

It was too tight. She couldn't get out.

_This is it_, she thought with a hopeless glance at the ceiling. She bit her lip, breathing ragged and fast as she pushed and pulled while the corner of her eye watched the time tick down to zero.

When the light came on and the gas started to fill the chamber, Tifa sucked in her last lungful of air. She shut her eyes and wished for someone to save her. Of all the people she might have thought of in that moment, Sephiroth should have been low on her list, but there he was in her mind's eye, a force of nature.

A shriek of tearing metal made her flinch away with a startled gasp and then there was a resounding metallic crash. She gagged around the mouthful of vapor as it entered her lungs, burning. Her eyes flew open at her mistake and she began to cough violently, but it was too late.

There was a whisper of footsteps off to her right and she wrenched her head up, peering through her narrowing vision with a sliver of hope. Her eyes widened at the bamboo hatted man dashing across the room in the rough woven cotton guise of a peasant farmer. His back turned to her at the controls, a long braid of silver hair – though not quite as long as it had been she noted vaguely – falling down between his shoulder blades.

The gas valve shut off with a hiss and the last residues of the vapor dissolved into the air with a sigh.

Tifa breathed in desperately though it hurt to. Her head was pounding, her lungs reluctant to respond to her urging, but she was alive. When she looked up to study her would be rescuer in his shrouded, wide brimmed hat she felt her heart skip a beat. His eyes were just sparkles of reflective light in a pool of darkness that looked at her as if this was the first time, raw and understanding.

That's when she knew. He ducked his head a second later and knelt to undo her bindings. A large needle materialized from a pocket into his hand and he made short work of them, much to her delighted surprise. It was heavily tempered by something dark and angry swelling inside her as she watched him.

Sephiroth chanced a glance up at her, "Are you alright?" He asked and averted his gaze quickly.

"I'm fine." She muttered.

A high pitched whistle over head proceeded a sudden series of impact that set the building trembling again and Tifa was scrambling to her feet. She looked around, seeing for the first time the opening in the domed ceiling. Her breath caught in her throat for a second, casting a side long look at her rescuer with no small amount of awe.

He'd cut a chunk two feet thick out of the ceiling.

"We must go now." Sephiroth urged quickly and disappeared up through the crack in the wall with one powerful leap. He reappeared a second later, extending his hand.

Tifa ran forward and jumped, catching him around the wrist and he hauled her up. He snatched his hand away as soon as her feet touched down. A fierce wind, ripe with the salty tang smell of the ocean, ripped at her hair as she stood on the sloping surface beneath her. The waves far, far below were a distant murmur between the din of gunfire and furious shouting that swallowed the harbor of Junon. Ahead of them stretched the giant canon out over the sea – it was there that Sephiroth headed and she followed.

His pace was blistering, silver braid rippling behind him as he ran. In a distant part of her mind she recognized that something terrible was happening around them, but that had no bearing on her thoughts right then. Only the man running from her did.

_He knows, _the gaping hole in her heart whispered vengefully. It was blazing through her brain as she followed at a sedate distance. His movements were uncharacteristically stiff, so unlike the fluidity she was accustom to seeing, and the distance between them might as well be that of stars in space.

Tifa stopped sharp, the soles of her boots digging into the smooth metal beneath them like she might burrow a hole through it if she stood there long enough. Screaming punctuated the odd silence between them and the explosive impact of rockets through the harbor were suddenly mute to the burning question in her eyes.

So this was it then. The moment of truth.

* * *

Sephiroth knew she had stopped and he had a good idea why, which was all the more reason _not _to humor her. Now wasn't the time for this conversation. In fact, he couldn't think of any time at all in the foreseeable future where he wanted to have that conversation, but fate would not allow him that luxury so he dragged his boots to a reluctant halt.

Leaving her would be counterproductive, seeing as she was the reason he'd come in the first place - against his better judgment. This was all Angeal's fault of course. Everyone thought the man was so honorable and kind, but they didn't _know _him the way his friend did. They didn't know the hard and sometime frightening edge he carried underneath that kind, inviting exterior.

That man could be terrifying when he wanted to be.

Sephiroth would've disappeared long before this confrontation could ever risk being had, if it was not for that man's conniving ways - or so he would have himself believe. It was a lie of course, because they all had thought she was going to die in a gas chamber, which he wouldn't have allowed no matter how condemned he was for what he'd already done to her. So he had come anyway, knowing that it would probably haunt him later because he couldn't hide what he knew, or the uncertainty that lurked beneath the surface.

"You remember." Simply spoken, no accusation or anger.

Sephiroth made a quarter turn and met her gaze reluctantly. It was hard holding it for any length of time because the memories were so prevalent in his thoughts now. Not thinking about them was impossible. Not seeing the agony written all over her face, even when she looked at him now fully grateful, just as impossible.

But at the same time, she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. This _girl _who kept her emotions locked and her head high with a proud, but unassuming gait - she had delivered him from the gaping maw of insanity.

A warrior indeed.

Tifa stared at him, waiting for some kind of confirmation, though she hardly needed it. His eyes said everything, from the way he could not look at her for very long to the edge of madness that lingered there. He was changed, but not in the way she had expected.

She wasn't sure what she expected.

"Ask me about it later." Sephiroth murmured quietly, resigned.

"_You!_"

Tifa blinked and turned around as the loud clackity clack of healed shoes registered in her brain. Coming towards her in a rather comical display of running was the woman in the red dress and radioactive lipstick. Her gaze was murderous, her heels hilarious. It seemed she would get the opportunity to thank her personally for her generous contribution to her execution after all.

Scarlet came to stop, nose to the air like a harpy on the prowl, "Look what you've done…you…you conceited little _whore_!"

"_I _didn't pick this outfit." Tifa replied with a scowl.

"How dare you!"The older woman hissed and reeled back to strike with open palm.

_Right_…

Tifa stepped forward, her hand making a fist with a swift jab. The blow landed square in the face of the blonde with a satisfying crunch and the woman staggered back, falling on her behind when her outrageously high, pointed heel caught on the surface of the canon. Big, swollen tears filled her eyes as she tried to catch the blood before it ruined her dress.

With that the dark haired woman turned to follow the General, who was standing at the edge of the canon and gazing out over the sea with a vaguely perplexed look. There were running footsteps approaching from behind them now, no doubt back up for the woman left staggering to her feet in a rage. Tifa glanced at Sephiroth with undisguised concern.

"They are late." He stated bluntly.

"Who?" She queried and a missile shot by over head, exploding just to the left of the gas chamber from which she'd been rescued. The impact sent them lurching and a hand clamped around her wrist before she was launched off the edge. As the ground settled she glanced back at the distant white caps.

"Our ride." Sephiroth answered finally and then looked down at the water with a calculated frown. "We'll have to jump."

Tifa opened her mouth to protest, a recent memory clear in her mind. Oh Chaka would be _thrilled. _Too bad he wouldn't get to see. Then the reverberating thrum of an engine drowned out her thoughts and a massive ship rose up from below. Whatever she'd been about to say died in her throat as her eyes widened comically.

"Is that-"

"Yes." He confirmed and stepped aside for her to pass. "You first."

A rope ladder was dangling from the open deck of the ship a few feet off the edge of the canon. She could see familiar faces moving about just above and her heart lightened. Then she broke into a run, launching herself into the air, and caught one of the ladder rungs in her hand. With a quick glance up she started to climb.

At the top Chaka offered a hand and pulled her up on deck with a silly grin. Behind him Yuffie bounced on her toes with a smile to rival his.

"Hello Chaka." Tifa gave him a distracted smile, her eyes casting about for anyone else, hopeful. They were the only ones on deck though.

"Fancy seein' you here, ay?" He clapped her on the back with a short bark of laughter. "Seriously though, nobody _jumped_? Girl, you disappoint me." With a wink he nudged her in the arm.

"Sephiroth was about to." She commented and remembered only then that she'd forgotten to check if he was behind her, but as soon as she turned around he was climbing up over the edge.

"About to what?" He asked as he straightened, a weariness in the sag of his shoulders that surprised her. Sephiroth was never weary.

"Jump off the canon," Chaka beamed. "Somebody's got to do it one of these days. Preferably when I've got a video camera on hand."

"Ah," The General made a thoughtful sound in the back of his throat and started walking towards a door that lead inside. "Perhaps a day when we are not under siege by Weapon." He called over his shoulder in return.

Tifa watched him disappear with a darkening look as rage burned through her system like a wildfire. Beside her Chaka exchanged a worried look with Yuffie, but neither spoke. Then the ship was moving under foot and everyone swayed a bit as their legs adjusted.

"Aww crap," Wutai's princess lurched forward, back bent and arms clutching her stomach she gasped out, "I'm so gonna be sick."

Her partner in crime hop stepped away from her with a horrified glance at her rapidly changing pallor. "Not on the _deck_!" Chaka cried, "Over the railing!"

Yuffie's eyes narrowed dangerously at him. "If I," erp, "-throw up anywhere…" and her gaze brightened with maniacal glee, "-it will be on _you_."

Chaka broke for the door, singing brightly over his shoulder, "You'll have to catch me first!" to which Yuffie stumbled after him, lurching this way and that, and flung herself inside with a howl of rage.

That left Tifa alone on the deck with the wind cold against her skin and rage hot just beneath the surface. She could _kill him _for turning his back on her! How long did he think he could run from her?

The creek of hinges started her from her thoughts and the subject of her ire re-appeared, having exchanged his peasant disguise for his old clothes and armor, and looking very reluctant to be there. He shut the door with a resounding click behind him, watching her as if she were a ticking time bomb - he would not be very far off the mark.

She recovered quickly from her surprise that he'd come back at all, advancing on him with slow, precise steps that echoed ominous intent. He didn't even have the good grace to move, though he must have seen what was coming. Her aim was true and succinct and he stumbled back a step from the blow with an almost resigned sort of calm, and a groan of pain.

His was the second nose she'd broken today and, oddly, the least satisfying. The blood leaking over his mouth and down his chin did not bring her any joy or absolution.

It did, however, break her hand.

Tifa ground her teeth as her eyes watered, desperately trying to hide her discomfort and failing. It had hurt the first time when she'd punched Scarlet without a glove. The second time was the last straw - she'd felt the bone crack as soon as it made contact with his face, and now it was throbbing with raw and uninhibited pain.

The world could have been ending at that moment though and she wouldn't have noticed.

She wrenched her hands into the collar of his coat anyway, and slammed him up against the door with a furious snarl. "Goddamn you, you bastard!" She cursed, eyes glossy and bright with raw anger, "You took _everything_ from me!" Something had snapped inside her and she reeled back with her left hand, moving with speed she scarcely knew she possessed.

Sephiroth flinched, one eye clenched shut as the blow landed a few inches to the right of his head into the wall. It left an impressive indention in the wall that he wasn't so sure wouldn't have killed him had she not altered its course at the last second. He released a breath he hadn't realized he'd held and watched as the girl took a shaky step back, shoulders wracked by deep, agonized sobs.

Tifa felt over-wrought as she shank to the floor, everything pouring out of her in a torrent of emotions long overdue. "Damn it." She whispered, and stared blindly at the wood planking beneath her, small bubbles of crystalline water clinging to her lashes like raindrops. Her cheeks glistened in a flash of sunlight as the ship turned and she lifted a sluggish hand to shade her face.

Sephiroth looked at her over his gloved hand, now covered in blood from holding his nose, with a resigned sort of calm. He began to hope as he'd scarcely allowed himself in the past two days. This was nothing compared to the penance he owed. The physical pain was much preferred to mental agony ripping him apart just to stand there in front of her, but maybe...maybe she could forgive him.

His face made a tight grimace as he gripped the bridge of his nose firmly in his fingers. With a quick jerk it ground back into place with a crunching snap.

"Eeaaa…" Tifa winced at the sound and looked away, cringing.

"I'm sorry." He said and it was unclear as to what he referred, but the husky quality to his voice was all she needed to hear.

Tifa drew her arms around herself against the sudden chill in the air. They had increased speed and the wind now roared in her ears. This was supposed to have been _simple. _He had no right to endear himself to her now, not after what he'd done to her – to so many people.

"You could have let me die." His voice cut in through the din of emotional chaos that was suffocating her brain.

Tifa lifted her head with a blank look, the words tumbling out in a hushed tone before she could stop them, "I didn't want you to die."

He paused a moment, gathering himself, before posing the question that loomed between them, "And now? You can change your mind. You have every right"

The blade of the masamune flashed across her peripheral as he wielded it from out of nowhere, a talent he frequently performed. With a quick flourish the handle was proffered to her, the point pressed firmly to his chest no doubt in the vicinity of an old scar.

She stared at it, the leather wrappings worn and chafed from years of use. It brought her back to a day when she had held it with wild fear as the sight of her father's body filled her vision with blood rage. Her hands were reluctant to move now, not least of which because her right was broken, so she reached forward with her left and wrapped her fingers around the familiar hilt with a hesitance born of wonder and loathing.

Her eyes flickered up at the man who stood before her and she took hold of it firmly. He let go of the blade, but she was unprepared for its weight or the flare of pain in her thumb as she tried to grip it and the tip fell to the deck with a clang. She bit back a cry and let go.

"What happened?" His voice startled her and she glanced up, surprised to see the accusation there.

"What?" Tifa blurted out, confused.

"Your hand. " Sephiroth declared with a disapproving look between the appendage in question and her face. "What's wrong?" He asked again.

"Oh," She paused dumbly and glanced down at the appendage in question, "I dislocated my thumb, back in the gas chamber trying to get out." Then she laughed, flexing her right hand with an undisguised wince, "I think both of then might be broken too actually."

His expression faltered and he looked away from her, clearing his throat nervously. "Perhaps you should fix that first and then try again?" Was that a flicker of amusement in his eye, or had she just imagined it? He was still having trouble meeting her gaze even now, but he made no move to escape her.

Tifa muttered something unkind under her breath and gazed down at the sword where it had fallen. It was heavy, yet balanced. Perfectly so, in her limited experience with swords. That is what she remembered about it from that night. A beautiful instrument of death to be sure.

"I killed you once already. It didn't change anything." She looked at him steadily and shook her head. "A second time won't make me feel any better."

Some of the tension that coiled in his shoulders gave way and he allowed himself to meet her eyes again. His were vulnerable and unsure – there were things he didn't know how to say, but that showed so clearly on his face that it was almost painful to watch.

"As I said. You have every right." He said with a hollow chuckle and looked away from her again.

Somewhere within that small window of time Sepheroth had produced a white handkerchief , which was now mostly red and pink from being held against his nose. There was still a track of smeared blood along his chin, and one across his upper lip, but most of it was gone. The bridge of his nose was swollen and bruising - so very out of place amongst his finely chiseled features.

"Maybe you should get that fixed." She said and there was the first hint of a smile on her lips.

Sephiroth took a hesitant step towards her and knelt down. With quiet resolve he removed his gloves and set them aside, eyes carefully averted. Then, with a hesitant glance at her, which she did not refuse, he took her right hand in both of his.

Tifa gazed down at them distantly, the heat of his skin warming her to the tips of her toes. He turned her hand over carefully so that her knuckles faced up and gently ran his thumbs along the back of her fractured fingers. It hurt at first, but she resisted the urge the flinch and didn't pull away.

Gradually the pain began to recede with the cooling breath of magic that surrounded his hands. Her skin tingled under his ministrations and a ripple of pleasure echoed in her belly. She tensed, breath catching in her throat and her eyes jerked to his face.

With one last stroke of his thumbs - quite unnecessary as it were - he relinquished her hand, only to take up the other one in its stead. He met her gaze patiently,"This will hurt." He warned, waiting for her go ahead.

Tifa nodded wordlessly – she didn't trust her voice at the moment.

He was quick about it, but she cried out all the same when the bone popped back into place. His eyes flickered at her face briefly, before returning to her hand. The healing process swiftly overcame the pain and then he was letting go and somewhere in her muddled mind she desperately wished he hadn't.

The tear tracks that had gone dry moistened anew. Angeal had been right. He _was _worth it, but Gods was she afraid of what that meant – what it would mean if she made the first step down that road. What if it didn't last? What if he relapsed? What if _did _last and he was everything she could ever dream of?

She felt her head fall behind a curtain of dark hair, her shoulders quaking as something between laughing and crying caught in her chest, and burst into ugly, loud tears. There was no holding back anymore. She was tired and confused and afraid, and somehow the person she hated more than anything in the world had touched her heart.

She must be nuts.

A shadow fell over her as Sephiroth leaned forward. One hand laced through her fingers and she relented to its coaxing without a fight – she had nothing left to fight anymore. The ghost of a touch brushed lightly against her cheek, weaving through the dark brown curtain that was her last line of defense and then it fell away to wrap around the small of her back. With a soft tug of encouragement she gave in and proceeded soak his coat.

It must have been several minutes before her head finally began to clear. She blinked, nestled snugly against his side, and breathed the air like it was the most beautiful thing she'd ever tasted. The heavy weight on her shoulders and the pressure in her chest were gone.

Sighing, Tifa sat up stiffly, and Sephroth's arm obligingly fell away. She winced as something popped in her neck. Her face felt sticky and wet. She frowned slightly and wiped her nose on the back of her hand.

"Sorry." She mumbled, now embarrassed.

"I'd give you my handkerchief, but I doubt you'd want it in its current state." He offered.

Tifa held her hand out expectantly, not looking at him.

Sephiroth regarded her with a thoughtful quirk of his brow and shrugged, retrieving the item in question from his pocket. He held it out to her and she took it without hesitation. She examined it carefully, finding the cleanest spot, to which she applied some spit and swiveled to look at him.

"Lean forward." She motioned.

His head tilted slightly to one side, bemused.

With a huff Tifa crawled over his legs, which were now stretched out in front of him, and promptly sat down straddling his lap, much to his dismay - he had officially stopped breathing. Then she proceeded to scrub at that last smudge of blood on his chin that had secretly been driving her crazy for the past 10 minutes. Satisfied, she sat back and nodded.

"There." She folded the rag once and blew her nose on it, twice, before carefully folding it up and handing it back.

He eyed it disdainfully.

"Is the great General squeamish of a little body fluid?" She inquired with a measured look.

His mouth framed a dry half smirk as he pocketed it with a sigh. "I've seen more than enough of it to last me a life time, thank you."

Tifa found a lock of his hair and twirled it in her fingers, "Well, at least you don't go on suicidal killing rampages in the simulator anymore."

"I was not-"

"I'm kidding." She smiled lightly and let the lock of hair fall back to his shoulder.

A roaring silence, brought on by the mechanical hum of the engines, stretched between them. Sephiroth watched her intently and his eyes seemed to glow as he reached over, slowly, and brushed his thumb across a trail of drying tears. When she did not pull away his second hand reached forward to do the same on the other side.

His touch was light, reverent. It sucked the air out of her lungs like a vacuum.

"I must look terrible." Tifa murmured softly, and she did. All puffy, red eyed and red nosed.

"It brings out the color in your eyes." His voice was soft, gaze intense. Every fiber in his being screamed to kiss her senseless.

Feeling suddenly very uncomfortable and unsure, Tifa removed herself from what she only then realized was a terribly compromising position, across Sephiroth's _lap,_ and got to her feet unsteadily. She bit her lip, "I think I'll go check on the others." With a smile of apology that didn't quite erase the fear in her eyes, she turned and walked away.

Sephiroth watched her go with a wistful sigh. His head fell infinitesimally when the door closed behind her. Then he growled low in the back of his throat and rubbed his eyes, shaking his head. The truth was banging against the walls of his psyche – there was no going back to the way things were before when she was simply a curiosity in his life.

His gut had never failed him before and it was insisting quite ardently that he was well and truly in love with her now.

* * *

A very exuberant Chaka intercepted Tifa on her way to what she hoped was the bridge. Yuffie was nowhere to be seen, but that was no surprise – he informed her that she was puking her guts out in the engine room. Then he happily volunteered himself to escort her the rest of the way, talking animatedly about how they'd hi-jacked the airship and who had masqueraded as who during the rescue operation – Yuffie had been the news reporter, to which Tifa just shook her head, smiling.

She was pleasantly surprised to see none other than Cid Highwind at the helm when they stepped onto the bridge. When asked how he'd fallen in with this unlikely lot he grumbled back, "Ask Hiho Silver."

Tifa choked on a bark of laughter to which Chaka gave her a pat on the back before leading her away on an extensive tour of the ship. It was bigger than it looked on the outside with over a dozen quarters to house crew and passengers. There was a small kitchen, a makeshift bar (she made a note to put out some suggestions for that later) and a commons room for meetings. It even had a stable for animals – chocobos specifically.

The best news was that Angeal's surgery was a success. They'd put him in a safe house just outside of Kalm, near the chocobo farm, where he could recover. Everything, Chaka said, was Sephiroth's doing – without him they never would've been able to stage such a thorough rescue operation.

At the mention of his name Tifa's mind went into a tumble. A shiver ran down her spine and she cast her eyes despondently at the smooth paneled floor beneath her boots. They were sitting in the common room - it was not very big, but there was a table and chairs, and a couch on the far side with another smaller coffee table. You just didn't have much room to walk around the various furniture tucked in the room.

"Hey," Chaka said seriously and sat forward, elbows braced on his knees. "You okay?"

She'd been wandering that herself. "I don't really know."

"Did you talk to him?" He asked hesitantly.

"Yes." Tifa murmured. "I just...don't know what to do now that – oh hell, you don't want to hear about this." She dismissed tiredly and sat back with a gusty sigh.

Chaka shifted around to lean against the arm of the couch, one leg bent over the other that draped off the edge of the cushions down to the floor, and looked at her. "You keep things bottled down too much. Let's hear it."

Tifa stared at the floor with a hopeless frown and raked a hand through her hair. When she pulled her fingers loose and held her hand in front of her face she saw that it was trembling. "I'm afraid of..." she couldn't quite put it to words.

"Him relapsing?" He supplied questioningly. "Or how he feels about you?"

._..or how you feel about him, _a traitorous voice whispered inside her, but that she didn't dare speak of. "Both." Her eyes had begun to burn anew and she mentally shook herself.

"There's no shortage of fucked up things in the world, yeah?" Chaka said, "but you know, whatever he might have been or might be in the future, he's doin' a damn fine job of fighting the good fight right now. Best any of us can do is hope that he keeps his head."

"And if he doesn't?" Tifa asked pointedly, meeting his eyes.

"Then we deal with it." He answered and reached over to give her hand a squeeze, "What else can yo do? He's earned himself a chance to try, ay?"

She nodded, feeling vaguely guilty. "I guess you're right."

"I can tell you one thing – no harm ever came from loving someone. It's the hating that's the problem, you know?" With that he stood and gave her a mock salute, "I'm gonna check on Wutai's princess. You'll be alright?"

"I'm good." Tifa tried to assured him through the rapid beat of her heart. Love? Did Sephiroth love her? Or did Chaka mean her loving him? Could she do that after all that had happened?

The click of the door as it shut behind the tall ex-Soldier left a chill in the air and she inhaled sharply.

Her chest ached. She remembered that unexpected kiss in the stairwell at HQ, how terrified she'd been of the feelings growing inside her then when the question still stood of what he would do when he remembered the truth. But he did remember, now, and his touch from earlier still lingered on her skin like a brand, the memory of how excruciatingly careful he'd been with her crumbling all of her bitter resolve.

Tifa had always wondered about the phrase 'afraid of falling'. She never imagined she would come to understand it as clearly as she did now. Yet here she was at the edge of a choice - to take a leap of faith, or run away - and she was more scared than she'd ever been in her entire life because she already knew her answer.

* * *

Sephiroth had not budged from the deck after Tifa had left. There was no place for him to be, no one expecting him. He might have stayed there the whole night had Chaka not appeared to drag him reluctantly back to his senses.

"Give her time." He told him somberly. "That one won't let down her guard easy."

"I have no right to her." Sephroth retorted.

Chaka looked like he might want to belt him, but thought better of it. "So what, you gonna just walk out on her then? She deserves better than that."

The ex-General gazed down at the myriad of colors blurring below them and fought the despondent sound that huddled in his throat, "No," he murmured. "And yes, she does."

"Well there you go then." The other man announced flatly, "Don't give up on her – she hasn't given up on you."

Sephiroth turned his head abruptly to meet Chaka's eyes in silent question.

The dark skinned man cracked a gleaming white smile full of knowing and no small amount of cheek, "She only broke your nose, after all."

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Well now, that wasn't so long of a wait, was it? Not as expedient as the last chapter update, but miles ahead of my usual pace. Hopefully the writing hasn't suffered for it, although I have it on good authority that Tifa has no character to speak of**.** Oh snap, I'm already 19 chapters in... I swear, this whole writing business can be tough.** I profusely apologize to all who were unable to continue reading for my lack of skills as an author. **It was nothing personal, I swear.

I'm going to draw a picture of Sephiroth as he's dressed in the beginning. And the reason behind Sephiroth's hair cut is, for those of you wondering,** TO BE CONTINUED...**don't worry I only took off a few inches. More like a trim. You'll hardly notice!

****Okay, I'll be quiet now! Thank you, all of you! So much! Don't stop being awesome!**  
**


	20. Chapter 20

**The Warrior**

_Chapter 20_

_I'm baaaaack.  
_

* * *

Someone had cut Sephiroth's hair. This wouldn't have been a mind blowing event had it not been for the fact that it had grown back in seconds, twice as long as it had been before. Rumor had it they'd been chopping at it all morning. Now there was a trail of silver spanning two floors – at one point it had gotten stuck in a moving elevator.

Tifa inwardly winced at the thought as she wandered the hall aimlessly. She'd forgotten what she'd come here to do. It was important, of course she could remember that, but nothing else. Her brow rose a fraction as she passed Reno on his knees with a pair of sheers, hacking away at the ever lengthening, ever thickening mass of writhing silver.

The trail lead to a room – Sephiroth's she assumed. Tseng was there arguing with Angeal over what appeared to be a chainsaw sitting on the floor with shredded bits of hair sticking out of the chain at odd angles. She scooted by them with an apologetic smile, but they paid her no mind.

Her eyes widened a the state of the apartment. Sephiroth's hair had gone virulent like some kind of vine, sprawling across every inch of surface area in a mass of tangled locks, up the walls and across the ceiling. It kriss -crossed the room like a spider's web. She was knee deep in beautiful spools of silver, ducking in and out, and weaving around where it dangled from the ceiling.

"Sephiroth?" Tifa called uncertainly.

"Hnn." A muffled sound down the hall to the left.

Her brow furrowed as she picked her way through. She felt her boot catch on something and looked down to find it wrapped around her ankle, thoroughly wedged into the boot hooks. After some grumbling and furious yanking she stumbled away and continued down the hall, the mass of hair now to her thighs.

"I have something to tell you," She hollered.

"I'm right here." His head poked out of the doorway to what appeared to be a large bathroom. He wielded a pair of scissors in his left hand. He looked ridiculous.

Tifa stopped, perplexed. "Have you tried your sword?"

Sephiroth frowned, "My sword?"

"You know, to cut it?" She waved vaguely at his predicament. It grew another few feet from his latest attempt.

"Is that what you came to tell me?" He asked pointedly, though there was a thoughtful crease to his forehead. Then he was pushing past her and delving down the hall to the end, digging through his hair as if looking for something. He disappeared through a door on the right.

"No," Tifa picked her way after him, anxiously wracking her brain for what she had come here to tell him. "I can't remember."

Sephiroth reappeared again from the room at the far end, one brow arched impossibly high, "Then why are you here?"

She huffed, "Because it's important!"

"Ah-ha!" He exclaimed in triumph. There was a loud thud, followed by a muted curse from the room. Then a relieved, "Finally!" before the man himself stepped out into the hall, his hair officially sheered impossibly short.

"Oh my god!" Tifa's hands flew to her mouth, a sound of horror escaping as her face twisted in dismay, "What did you do to your _hair?_"

Sephiroth scowled, "I cut it. What does it look like?"

"But..." She shook her head slowly, "But it looks awful!"

He blinked at her. His forehead slowly wrinkled as the weight of her words sank in and then he stormed past her back into the bathroom, no doubt to inspect the mirror. A high pitched shriek answered.

"It'll grow back!" It was unclear whether Sephiroth was trying to convince Tifa, himself, or the mirror whose horrified sound had made both of them jump. "I'm sure my _father _has something for that too..."

"That's it!" Tifa exclaimed suddenly.

"What's it?" Sephiroth peeked out into the hall, eyes narrowed petulantly – oh but he looked so _odd!_

"Your father!" She cried happily. "I know who your real father is!"

He stared at her like her brains had started spewing out her ears. " Yes," he drawled, "Most people do."

"No!" Tifa interrupted quickly, "That's the thing – Hojo isn't your father!"

"He's not?" Sephiroth straightened, bewildered by this new train of thought. His hand went to tug thoughtfully on his hair, only to come up empty. He dropped his hand like it had been scalded and crossed his arms imposingly, "Well then, who is?"

She bit her lip, "I can't remember."

* * *

The engines had stopped. That was the first thought to emerge from the fog of sleep as Tifa woke. Her eyes opened to the 12 by 6 cabin she occupied, roving from wall to ceiling to floor. It was sparsely decorated if one could even apply the word. All the room could claim for itself aside from the cot was a small table in the corner by the port window.

She sat up with a jaw popping yawn, arms stretched towards the ceiling. The sleep had done her good, but she scarcely remembered much beforehand. A trip to the bridge and she'd nearly passed out in exhaustion. Yuffie and Chaka ended up escorting to her to a cabin for some much needed shut eye, but she was still in the dark as to what was going on or where they were going.

Her shoulders relaxed and her hands settled in her lap as she thought back to the dream, a small frown pulling at her mouth.

He needed to know and keeping it from him would only reflect badly on her the longer she waited. It might not even matter to him, but her conscience would be clear. She just had to work up the nerve to face him again, and therein lay the problem.

A bundle lay on the foot of her bunk. She reached forward, rubbing the dark blue fabric curiously between thumb and forefinger – a Soldier uniform. Well, the bottom half anyway. There was the Soldier belt and a white tank top to go with the ensemble, probably hastily salvaged. Someone must have left it there while she slept.

Tifa hopped out of bed, getting dressed quickly. Maybe someone besides Sephiroth would know what was going on and give her an excuse to postpone her meeting with the silver haired menace.

The bridge was quiet and dark except for one corner of the room, behind the ship's main control platform. Someone had lit a lantern and hung it low over a table, around which sat Chaka, Yuffie, Cid and – to her great surprise – Vincent. She approached curiously, peering around Cid's shoulder as her shadow cast over the table. All heads turned to her.

"Goddamn you – oh, hey Tifa." Cid did a double take, his cigarette bobbing between his teeth as he threw down a card, muttering an offhanded, "Sniveling, pus bucket."

_"Yuck."_ Wutai's princess looked ready to punch him only it was her turn to play. Her eyes narrowed at her cards before deftly choosing one to put down with a vicious gleam in her eyes as she did so . It was a diamond card, like the others, only bigger.

There was a harsh intake of air from the blonde pilot followed by a violent string of profanity that had everyone at the table pausing for the briefest of moments. It was broken shortly by Yuffie's uproarious laughter. In her zeal she fell off the chair, which added another octave to her giggles.

"Woah there kid," Chaka offered a balancing arm as the girl climbed back into her seat wiping tears from her eyes.

"Oh that was beautiful." She said.

"Shut up." Cid had chewed through his cigarette and was retrieving another from his breastpocket.

"Hello Tifa." Vincent addressed her with a quiet nod above the madness that had ensnared their card game. There was a horrible choking sound from the ninja when the Ace of diamonds suddenly landed, taking the hand by surprise at the last minute. The gold gauntlet swept the cards into a neat pile where two others already waited, oblivious to the diminutive one glaring death from across the table.

Something about the man hiding behind a shredded red cape with unruly hair dangling from an equally red bandana and eyes like wildfire casually engaging in a game of cards shocked her to the quick. Not least of which because he'd greeted her for all the world as if this were normal. Last she'd heard he was raiding the underside of Midgar, but then Yuffie and Chaka were to have joined him and they were here now.

She smiled bemusedly, "Vincent...how did you get here?"

"He just showed up." The princess waved a hand in the air, examining the remainder of her hand as if she might eat it.

Someone cleared their throat and spoke, "She means that it was planned that we would rendezvous when Vnicent finished tying up a few loose ends." Chaka offered her an apologetic, if somewhat distracted, smile. "It's been hectic around here, ay?"

"You mean _nauseating._"

"Motion sickness aside..."

"I'm so hu—ungry!"

"Eat something."

"I can't!"

"They make pills for that you know."

There was a sudden violent jerk under the table followed by a yelp of pain from the tall black man. He hissed through his teeth, scooting back out of the trigger happy foot to his right with a venomous look at the perpetrator.

Tifa found herself slightly transfixed by the game and the interesting group of people it had gathered. Friendly banter had become something alien in her world. It felt like...well, forever since she'd experienced something like that. It was comfortaing.

Another round of cards had been thrown to the table in varying degrees of frustration and possibly amusement, if one noticed the twitch at the corner of Vincent's mouth, just behind his collar. From the looks of things Chaka had won the round with a expulsion of air that announced relief. It was his turned to lead then and a 6 of clubs slid out to center table.

Vincent had followed suit, for that appeared to be the rule of the game, when Cid slapped down a high diamond. He chewed his cigarette once more, waiting for Yuffie's play. His right leg bounced spasmodically.

The aforementioned groaned and tossed up a 3 of spades in answer. "This game is stupid."

"Be quiet. I'm finally gonna win a goddamn round."

"_Ohmygod _wait!" A hand shot out, snatching the 3 of spades back just as Cid was reaching forward.

"What-hey! You can't do that!"

"Last card, can too!"

A king of hearts took the previous card's place, to which the pilot grumbled, but no other opposition was voiced as he pulled his winnings into a neat stack. Yuffie stuck out her tongue and hummed in defiance.

Tifa shifted on the ball s of her feet. Now she was definitely stalling. "So what's going on?"

"Oh hell."

The brunette blinked. "What?"

"Oh Hell." Cid repeated, glancing up at her. "It's a card game."

"Oh. _Oh. _Well I meant why did we stop moving?"

Both Chaka and Yuffie groaned.

An intense gleam had come to the pilot's eye as he paused in arranging his hand. A new hand was being dealt, the previous one having been played out. His teeth bared in a snarl, "Those fucking idiots." He spat, "Don't know two shits about engineering. Engine is a fucking disaster. Moony's out picking up parts – he's one of the crew."

Tifa frowned uncertainly, "He won't just turn us in for stealing Shin-Ra property?"

Cid cackled loudly. "Not if wants to keep that hollow head on that scrawny neck of his. Besides, he's got the hero worship thing bad for ol' Quicksilver."

"Don't ask." Chaka said quickly before the martial artist could voice the question at the tip of her tongue. She looked at him and decided that perhaps he was right. "By the way, you've got a lesson in one hour. Meet me on the ground ."

"A lesson?"

"Ya didn't think you were getting out of that just because we're not Shin-Ra flunkies anymore, did you?" The dark skinned man flashed a bright white smile at her. "We've got some catching up to do, ay?"

"I guess so." She admitted with a blush. "I'd forgotten. So where are we now?"

"Just outside of Corel." Cid replied. "You wanna catch up on the plan I'd talk to Sephiroth 'cause I ain't got the foggiest notion. They just keep me around to fly shit."

Yuffie snorted inelegantly from his right, to which he snapped, "Watch it brat."

"He's in his room – it's the one at the end of the hall." Chaka supplied. He glanced up from his cards, "We're looking for a friend of yours?"

"A friend of mine...?" Her heart skipped a beat.

"Yeah, the pointy haired blond - he's got that Cetra girl with him. They blew Midgar the same night that you were captured." He explained, placing a card down absently.

_But that couldn't be...could it?_ "You mean Cloud? But how did you know...?"

Chaka looked up distractedly, "Sephiroth told us."

"Oh." She looked around uncertainly, "I guess...I'll go talk to him then."

As soon as Tifa had turned her back to the table Chaka received a swift kick to the shin, to which his jaw fell open in a silent cry of pain. He glared back at Wutai's princess, mouthing a furious "What?" as he massaged the bruised flesh.

Yuffie's eyes widened meaningfully, lips scrunched disapprovingly as she jerked her head at the martial artist exiting the bridge.

"I didn't do anything!" He protested once Tifa was well beyond earshot.

She made a sound of exasperated disgust. "Guys are so stupid."

"Settle down kiddies, we got a game going on here." Cid interrupted. There was a smugness about him that belied blood letting to come, figuratively speaking of course. Mercy was scarce at this table.

Chaka and Yuffie looked narrowly over their cards at the old man before turning to meet each others gaze. Between the eye brow wriggling, foot nudging under the table, and not so subtle head jerks a dubious alliance was formed.

* * *

Tifa descended the stairs with slow, precise steps. It was hard lifting one foot and placing it in front of the other, yet she felt electrified in anticipation, which seemed somewhat contradictory. She didn't know how to face him now, except to pretend that he didn't make her nerves fly off the handle and send her mind into a jumble.

That wasn't easily done.

_Not likely is more like it. _

When she came to what she thought was his door as per Chaka's instructions she stood there for at least a minute. Twice she lifted her hand to knock and watched as it fell back to her side indecisively. What if he didn't want to see her? Was he mad at her for leaving the way she had?

What if he told her to go away? _Ergh, I'm so awful at this. _

The door had suddenly opened and Tifa gasped in surprise, jumping back. Her eyes darted like a deer before the hunter and she ran a hand through her hair, looking in every possible direction that wasn't his face.

"Yes?"

A flush was crawling its way up her neck and onto her face. It assuredly had nothing to do with the heat that she could feel emanating off him or the fact that his eyes were intently on her as she stood there poised to flee. She dragged her eyes to his and felt her skin burning red at the subtle twitch at the corner of his mouth. Was he trying not to laugh? "I...I'm sorry." Tifa stammered, her hands wringing behind her back where they'd hidden themselves, "Can I come in?"

Sephiroth tilted his head a fraction, intrigued, "It's rather cramped in here," He cautioned, stepping aside for her to enter, "But of course you are always welcome."

His voice rippled over her, sinking into the pit of her stomach with a thrilling chill. She moved inside with more grace than her jellied knees should have been capable of. His cabin was bigger than hers, but not by much. Her attention immediately landed on the large cage set on the table on the far side though – a mouse ran in place on a wheel while two others lay inside a plastic shelter. A fourth scrabbled at the glass, bright eyes seemingly intent on the man whose cabin she now shared.

Tifa hadn't realized she was smiling until Sephiroth cleared his throat awkwardly. She started in surprise looked up at the man, "You brought them with you?"

"Yes." He gazed down at the floor, a hint of color traveling up his throat.

There were butterflies ravaging her stomach and she had to tuck her hands underneath her thighs as she promptly sat down on his bed. It was better to tell him sitting down she decided. Better for her so that she couldn't fidget uncomfortably, that is.

Sephiroth took a seat in the chair by the table, bracing his elbows on his knees as he laced his fingers together beneath his chin. "Is everything alright?" He asked after a moment when it was clear that she couldn't get her vocals to work.

The martial artist exhaled shakily and cast a nervous look his way, "I have something to tell you – something I found out, back when you sent me into the Deep Ground base..."

The General made a sound like a groan in the back of his throat, as if re-visiting a particularly bad memory.

"It's about your father."

Sephiroth met her eyes sharply, something dark and unsettling in his gaze, "He's dead."

Tifa frowned worriedly, but shook her head. "No, he's not. Hojo isn't your real father, Sephiroth. He couldn't even have children – he was sterile."

The chair scraped loudly across the floor as he stood up suddenly, hands clenching at his sides. He turned away sharply, head bowed – his hair barely reached past his waist now. She resisted the urge to reach out and touch it.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

"It doesn't matter." His voice was hushed.

Her heart twisted at that and she stood. There was little space between them in such close quarters, "It does matter." She contested firmly, "Because he's alive and so is your half-sister. Or she was."

Tifa watched the lump in his throat move as he swallowed. "I think it would be best that they not know about me." He murmured pensively.

"What? But why?"

His head jerked at her, jaw tight. It astounded her how eyes so bright in color could appear so dark and haunted.

"Oh," Tifa felt her breath hitch and a lump gathered in her throat threatening to burst. "But you _know_ them! Both of them. I think they'd want to know."

He hesitated, looking past her out the window. "Who is he?"

"His name is Veld."

Sephiroth puzzled that for a moment before speaking, "I thought he was dead?"

"It was never verified." Tifa said. "Jesse was the one who read about it though, not me. She was under the impression that he is alive and that Elfe was his daughter. I guess she disappeared around the same time."

"Elfe?" He echoed and moved to collapse on the edge of the mattress, staring off at the wall. "Elfe." He repeated, brows furrowing in confusion. His hair rippled down his back as he shook his head with a dubious look, "But Veld...he hardly knew my mother. Why?"

"Hojo had Lucrecia artificially inseminated. Given his position at Shin-Ra it probably wasn't that difficult for him to acquire a sample from..." She trailed of sheepishly, watching one of the mice chew at a chunk of cheese.

"Veld." Sephiroth finished with an inward sigh and dragged his fingers across his scalp. "Even more reason not to tell them."

Tifa bit back a frustrated sound and felt her shoulders slump in defeat. "I think you should talk to them." .

"We don't even know where they are, if they do still live." Sephiroth dismissed and stood, his expression hardened. "And we have more pressing matters to concern ourselves with at present. As I understand it, if Genesis acquires the Black Materia before we do he could destroy the world."

The atmosphere in the room had dropped from warm to freezing in three short sentences. Tifa felt her anger rising and had to bite down on a sharp retort, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. "Forget it then." She deadpanned. "I just thought you should know - I'd have given anything for that chance."

With that she marched out of his room and down the hall without a glance back. She wanted to get off the ship and run far, far away. What she would've given for some semblance of family. But he'd never had one to speak of so it didn't mean the same thing to him as it did to her.

Tifa barricaded herself in her own room, staring up at the ceiling with an empty feeling in her stomach. Maybe she was being stupid. He had a point...but to not even care? There was nothing so disheartening to her then his indifference.

A knock on the door startled her back to reality. She sat up, frowning at the puny barrier as if it had done something to offend her. "What!" It came out more irate than she had intended.

"Please open the door." Came a familiar, exasperated voice from the other side.

Tifa stood and did so reluctantly, crossing her arms at he towering figure across the threshold of her room, "Well?"

Sephiiroth looked briefly skyward, as if to implore patience from the Gods, before looking back at her earnestly. "I never meant to suggest that I'm not grateful, or that it doesn't mean anything to me...but we have no time for this."

Her lips thinned slightly, waiting.

The man sighed, letting his forehead fall against his arm where it braced against the door frame. "This is my job. Personal matters don't exist in my line of work."

"You're not working for them anymore." Tifa argued. "If you do away with all the things that matter, what's the point in saving the world anyway?"

"I do away with them so that no one else has to." The General retorted.

"And that just worked out really well, didn't it!"

Silence. It echoed within the tight confines of the room like a thunderous boom. His entire body had gone taught as a bow string poised to fire. She was breathing hard, holding his furious stare with equal umbrage. Something pained flashed in the General's eyes then and his body deflated as he turned away, as if shrinking in upon itself like burning paper. He turned and walked away without another word.

A breath hitched in Tifa's throat where it had tightened. She blinked and was surprised to feel moister stinging the corners of her eyes. Several minutes passed before she remembered to close her door. It wasn't until another knock came to her door, this one crisp and uppity, that she recalled Chaka's appointment.

"I'm coming." She sighed and drew herself up off the bed, her body seeming to way twice as much as usual. When she opened the door it was to a disapproving scowl.

"Something's up." He stared at her expectantly. "It's not like you to forget."

Tifa shook her head. "It's nothing." She offered her best smile and moved past him.

Behind her Chaka followed with a worry line carving his brow.

It was a solemn practice and not many words were spoken, but they were felt in every blow that she landed on him. The taller fighter bit back a few choice words when her aim slipped and she nailed him below the belt. He sagged to the ground with a soundless gasp, hands at his crotch.

"I'm so sorry! Are you...are you going to be okay?" Tifa had scrambled to his side, face utterly devoidof color. "I didn't mean to...I just..."

The dark skinned man nodded, waving her off with a cough as he struggled to breath even. He shook himself, "Whew. Okay." He managed and exhaled. "Let's go break some cliffs."

And so they did. It was, he said, an adequate replacement for trees as Corel appeared sorely lacking in those. He intended to stay true to his promises. The crack in the ground had grown considerably from her last try – big enough to swallow a large man and the force to knock him out.

"You can steal other people's chakra too." Chaka told her. They'd begun exchanging words again now that Tifa had something to focus on that wasn't the conversation she'd had with Sephiroth earlier.

"How?"

"Meditation. _Lots _of meditation." From his tone Tifa gathered that his own experience in the process had not been a pleasant one, and perhaps still wasn't. "I'm a shoddy monk when it comes to controlling pure chakra forces. If there isn't a punch or kick behind it I can barely make a ripple."

"So how do I get there then?"

"Well, you know the feeling when you release the shockwave, right?" At her nod he continued, "You have to hold onto that sensation you get, because that's the chakra force inside you, and once you've got your hands on that you can make it do other things. Like stealing it from other people to heal yourself. So, practice. Here we go..."

They sat down together in the dusty, sun baked earth and worked on clearing their minds. The heat was relentless in this dry husk of a place. Chaka swatted at a fly intent on landing on his face, grimacing. The air smelled of metal and dirt, slightly cloying in its lack of moister. It reminded her of the slums in Midgar, only hotter.

Searching for that little bead of power inside her was like ambling through a grass field looking for a seed. Instead she found silver hair twining around her thoughts and pulling her from the task. She cursed herself, blinking into a dull breeze as she gave up the hunt. Chaka was cleaning his fingernails off to her left, having already given up on the charade. Her lips quirked.

"My mind is like a mouse on a wheel." She sighed.

Chaka shot her a curious look. "It'll take some time. Probably be good for you though, to clear your mind some. It helps me, when I can do it."

Tifa smiled. "Thank you."

"What for?" He asked, getting to his feet and offering her a hand. She accepted.

"For everything. For helping me and...well...giving me someone to talk to."

Chaka flashed her an easy grin. "It's nothing. Come on – those parts ought to be delivered by now."

Everyone was waiting at the bridge, including Sephiroth himself. He and Cid were engaged in a heated discussion with Yuffie leaning in so close to eavesdrop that she was on the verge of falling over. She straightened as soon as Chaka and Tifa made their approach, shifting away with a guilty jerk of her head.

A river of braids shimmered down the soldier's back as he leaned in to ask Wutai's princess in a conspiratorial whisper, "What's going down?"

"Somethin' about the Golden Saucer. Choco boy was spotted there with an orange cat and pinky." She whispered back.

"Translation?"

Yuffie glared, "Cloud, an _orange cat_, and the Ancient Crypt Keeper are going after the keystone that opens the Temple of the Ancients. Some dude called Dio has it."

"O-kay."

"An orange cat?" Recognition stole across Tifa's face and she beamed, "He must have escaped with Cloud. I'm so glad."

"Huh?" Her fellow soldier swung his head around, only half paying attention as someone had elbowed him in the ribs.

"You remember him from Hojo's lab?" She inquired. "The one that was in the glass cage?"

He scratched the stubble on his chin with a quizzical hum before stopping abruptly. "Yeah, yeah I remember now. Huh. Wonder what's up with that?"

"I don't know." Tifa murmured, "but I'm glad he escaped. No one deserves to be locked up in Hojo's lab..."

"Good thing he's dead." Yuffie chimed in.

Chaka's nose twitched, but he said nothing.

A chill seemed to have swept into the room and with it silence. Feet shifted with a grating sound, a dull murmur of voices the only other sound. Tifa chewed her lip pensively, Chaka idly scratching the back of his neck, and Yuffie hovered close to the conversation nearby.

The clang clang of metal on metal startled everyone around at the newest arrival. Red cap swirling at his heels, Vincent approached with an air of urgency. He leaned into Sephiroth's ear, said something that made the General jerk his head about.

Tifa frowned and stepped into the muted conversation without further ado. The others huddled in behind her, curiosity piqued. Something was going on and she had no intention of being kept in the dark about it. "What is it?" She asked.

"There was a massacre." Sephiroth answered her, eyes flickering briefly at her face. "Cloud and his followers have been thrown in prison for the murder of the Battle Square employees."

"That can't be." She shook her head firmly. "He would never."

"Nor would the Cetra with him allow it without a fight I imagine." The General concurred. "Something is afoot. A trip to the Golden Saucer is in order."

"I'm going." Tifa asserted.

Sephiroth nodded, "Of course." He looked to the pilot, "You will stay here with the ship to monitor the installation of parts. Anyone else who wants to accompany us speak now."

"I'm in." Chaka said.

"Well then I'm going too." Yuffie piped in.

When no one else was forthcoming, Sephiroth looked to the red caped man. "Vincent?"

"I will go separately, if that is acceptable." He requested.

"The choice is yours." The silver haired man replied. "Shall we rendezvous at an appointed time?"

"Entrance, 21:00 hours?"

"Alright." He turned to the others. "The rest of you, meet me on the deck in 30 minutes."

The gathering dispersed, Tifa being the last to remain when the others had gone. She had all her gear equipped already, a habit she'd maintained after Solider training. That left just her and Sephiroth on the bridge for Cid had gone off somewhere, muttering about idiot engineers and their lack of punctuality.

Tifa's insides squirmed uncomfortably, a sensation she knew well to be guilt. She could feel the tension roiling off him not far away setting her hairs on end. She studied his face, willing that he say something to her, but his eyes were trained on the horizon out the foredeck.

She stepped towards him hands shaking, courage fleeting, "I'm sorry."

He turned at her words, surprised. A fleeting smile, flat, crossed his mouth. "Don't be. It is the least I deserve, is it not?"

A frown creased her brow, "No." She shook her head. "You don't. I...forgive you. For everything."

Sephiroth looked away, one hand curled in a fist at his side. "Would that I could believe that."

Tifa's heart sank just a little. "I am no saint." She murmured. "I get bitter and pity myself for what happened. Then I take it out on other people. Whatever I've been through doesn't justify that, not to anyone."

The man seemed terribly fascinated by the floor boards before finally facing her with something like resignation, "I will go to see them, if it pleases you."

She started, a fluttering in her chest as met his eyes, "You don't have to. I won't push you."

"I know."

Neither spoke for a while. It was almost companionable if not for the thundering of her heart in her chest. She wondered if he could hear it with his acute hearing or if she was simply being paranoid. A thought occurred to her, brow furrowed.

"So is Angeal..."

"Going stir crazy, probably cursing my name as we speak for electing to leave him behind." Sephiroth supplied regretfully. He cleared his throat, "The surgery went well. Thank you."

"I didn't do hardly anything. The people who removed the chip deserve all the credit." She demured. "I'm just relieved he's okay."

"As am I."

"I hope he doesn't get lonely."

"Soldier is with him."

"The _cat?_"

Sephiroth snorted softly, "Yes, the cat."

"How...?"

He threw her a sidelong look, trying to maintain an affronted scowl but failing miserably.

Tifa laughed and her eyes came alight, "You didn't!"

The General sighed, "I did."

"That's sweet."

Sephiroth's eyes widened comically in horror shortly before a crimson blush stole across his face. A strangled sound burbled up his throat and he turned away quickly, avoiding her gaze, "We should join the others now. We'll...uh...talk later, about my father."

"Okay." Tifa smiled at his back.

* * *

The ride up to the golden saucer was a test of willpower for their suffering comrade, the princess from Wutai. To hear it from her it was ten times worse than the Highwind, which was at least smooth in its ride, whereas the cable car lurched and jerked its way up to the theme park like it hadn't been greased in years.

"She'll make it." Chaka assured them.

Yuffie mustered enough energy to glare in his direction before resuming her position hunched out the window.

It was a mercifully brief trip. The four of them stepped out, surveying their surroundings with no small amount of awe, except for one person; Sephiroth moved through the crowd like a man possessed, neither curious nor seemingly aware of the surrounding splendor. Or the besotted eyes of several female, and a few male, onlookers. At least not until he found himself surrounded by them and unceremoniously ushered forward to the front of the line.

"Oh this is just great." Yuffie grumbled. "He'll spend half the day signing autographs while _we _get stuck loitering around."

Chaka was scowling at the proceedings as if he might very well agree with that sentiment. A significant distance had been put between them and their dubious leader, most of it full of mingling bodies jostling for a view of the famous general.

"This was a terrible idea." The lanky soldier maintained at last.

Sephiroth almost looked frightened, which caused Tifa to laugh when he looked back at them helplessly, a desperate plea in his eyes.

"Come on." She said and dove headlong into the gathering, pushing people aside. It took her a while, but eventually she reached him, and forced a barrier between him and the gathering of zealous fans. There were more than a few affronted looks among the crowd. She cracked her knuckles; Yuffie and Chaka had come to flank her on either side.

The crowd stepped back.

"That's more like it." Tifa smiled pleasantly at them.

"Who are you?" Somebody demanded.

"We're his body guards." She answered with a gesture to the towering silver haired figure behind them.

Someone laughed and a hand shot out towards her. Tifa shifted sideways in one smooth motion, catching the appendage and bending it back almost to the point of breaking. The man cried out in pain, begged mercy, and she released him.

"Anybody else?"

The gap between them widened substantially.

Tifa turned to the General, hopping on her toes with an apologetic smile and said, "I guess we'd better pay our entry fee."

He almost gaped at her, bemusement shaking his head as he turned to the mascot that handed out the tickets. "Four please." A handful of gill was exchanged, to which the mascot sputtered incoherently and tried to give some of it back to no avail. Sephiroth was already on his way without a glance back.

Their tickets in hand, the three others hastened to catch up.

"Oh my _gawd!_" Yuffie exclaimed as they entered the brightly lit premises, a cacophony of merriment almost drowning her out. "This is gonna be so awesome!"

"Is that an arcade?" Chaka babbled. "I think that's an arcade."

Tifa chanced a look at the silver haired man on her left, wondering what he was thinking. He caught her eye briefly, a wry smirk in place, before calling out to the others, "We'll meet you at 21:00."

The dark skinned soldier swiveled his head around with a grin and two exuberant thumbs up, "Sure thing, ay." He and Yuffie were instantly swallowed up by the sea of milling theme park goers.

* * *

**Author's Dubious Notes: **Uh, I think I've exhausted my "OMG she updated again" tirades. I'm just going to bow my head in shame and push this forward as my meager offering of apology. Have mercy!

Life goes on. How are you? I hope you're doing well. You probably forgot what this story was about it's been so long, XD. But I'd love to hear from you anyway :).


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